Consequences
by Miri1984
Summary: Set twenty-five years after the blight, King Alistair and Queen Miranda set out for the deep roads, leaving their son as King. Spoilers for DAO and DAO:A
1. Chapter 1

CHOICES

ONE

Sigrun wasn't the only warden involved in the operation – but she was the only one who knew all the details. As warden commander for the past six years she had been a close confident of the king and the queen and they had all discussed what would happen when this time came.

The joining ritual and its side effects were still secret – no one outside the wardens knew about their truncated life span – or the exact methodology involved in killing an archdemon. Alistair had wisely decided that the Ferelden people didn't need to know their king had a finite time on the throne – the possibilities for political unrest as he neared his fiftieth year were too great.

"And to be honest I might not even make it that far," he'd said to her. "Zevran tells me the Antivans and the Orlesians have started probing the assassins for contracts on me, and there are always accidents. Why I know that my great great grandfather, King... whatsisname..... died from eating a rotten potato on his twenty-eighth birthday. There are always rotten potatoes lying about."

It was his talk of accidents that gave Zevran the idea in the first place. The king and queen were frequent travellers from Denerim – Alistair liked to think he was a hands on ruler, although Sigrun suspected he just took every chance possible to get away from court life. There were bandits on the roads. The occasional lost darkspawn. Bears.

So it came to pass that in the twenty-fourth year of his reign, King Alistair Theirin and Queen Miranda Cousland were waylaid by bandits in a pass near the Brescillian woods. Although the bandits were killed – the royal carriage was too damaged to repair and the soldiers accompanying the King and Queen could not protect them. They fell defending their rulers and the King and Queen were lost. Their bodies were brought in state back to Denerim and given a royal burial. Their son, Duncan, only eighteen years old, wept openly at the funeral before taking up his duties as king. Although still young, he was surrounded by the carefully picked advisors his father had surrounded himself with in the early years of his reign. The transfer of power was smooth and while Ferelden mourned the loss of her king and her hero, there was a certain poetry about their final moments. Bards wrote songs and tales of the two battling back to back in their last moments together – as they had against the darkspawn horde and the archdemon twenty-four years ago.

Sigrun accompanied them to the deep roads. She returned frequently – usually with new recruits seeking their vials of blood, but this time she was alone with them. Miranda she had always been comfortable with, but Alistair was something of an enigma for her. In his years as king he had little to do with Sigrun directly – preferring to leave the administration of the wardens to his wife "She knows what she wants, Sigrun – better ask her," and his human humour sometimes grated on her nerves.

On the trip to Orzammar, though, she found he was a different person. He was more relaxed – the jokes seemed less forced. There was a lightness around the two of them that she'd not seen before, despite the film that covered Miranda's eyes – the shadows under them.

Her dark hair was streaked with white now. It had started greying after the third miscarriage – around the time she'd given up her warden commander duties. The pressure on Alistair to marry again or at least take a consort capable of bearing a child wore her down, Sigrun knew that. When Duncan had been born she'd been so much happier – but she'd been less inclined to join in training exercises – more willing to let Sigrun and Anders test out the new recruits. She didn't like spending time away from Alistair and Duncan went everywhere with her – strapped to her in a sling.

There were no more children. Duncan had been coddled for his first few tenuous years – those years when many children were lost to disease. Alistair had recalled Wynne's son from the tower to be their personal physician. He knew how important it was that this child survived.

The situation had been explained to Duncan. He knew he had to lose his parents, knew how important it was that the rest of Ferelden not know the reason. His tears at the funeral had been genuine. He was never going to see them again and chances were they would really be dead within weeks.

The deep dwarves didn't recognise the king and queen. Sigrun was still considered dead to them – even the legion ignored her now with her new status, but she was a familiar figure, even though the two wardens who accompanied her were older than her usual new recruits. Bhelen had been assassinated four years before – the new king wasn't interested in meeting every grey warden who travelled through Orzammar to the deep roads – there was a steady, slow stream of them despite the depletion of Ostagar. They went down, they didn't come back.

The retaken Thaig still felt dangerous to Sigrun – the taint, the darkspawn were too close. She wondered if it affected the families who lived there. There were supposedly no casteless any more, but the inhabitants of this thaig were the new underclass. The close you lived to the taint, the less money you had. They ignored the wardens.

They set up camp just at the entrance to the deep roads. Sigrun knew she'd have to leave them soon. Alistair was already looking away from civilisation, his eyes had taken on a serious expression unlike him. The web of lines around them had deepened, even in the few days since leaving Denerim. Sigrun had heard the two of them at night, waking every hour or so, comforting each other. The nightmares were getting stronger the closer they got to the roads.

During the day, though, they were happy. Laughing together. Telling stories about their time on the road:

"Remember when Shale used to watch us at night..."

"Wynne and your socks.."

"Morrigan's nose!"

Sigrun felt left out. She wondered why she travelled with them. Perhaps it was because there was a very real chance she'd be heading the same way – in a few years, maybe five if she was lucky. She didn't feel old, but looking at the two of them, Miranda so changed from the first time she'd seen her, determined and strong on the deep roads..... she found, when the time came, she was glad to leave.


	2. Chapter 2

TWO

Two months after the king and queen had departed, Sigrun was called to the palace. Leliana was waiting for her in the throne room, with Wynne's son Rowan. Duncan was nowhere to be seen.

"We have a problem," she said, as they made their way to the royal apartments. Sigrun was puzzled.

"Where's the king?" she asked.

Leliana cocked an eyebrow. "That's the problem," she said. "Tell me, can you feel any taint here?"

Sigrun started to shake her head – she'd not felt the taint at the palace since the King and Queen had left, but something made her stop and hesitate. There was something – something different on the outskirts of her senses. The smallest hint of corruption. So small as to be nearly unnoticable, but there none the less. She felt her lip curl involuntarily.

"Darkspawn?" she said.  

Leliana shook her head. "I only wish," she said. "No it's much worse than that."

They'd reached the king's apartments. Leliana knocked briefly, then opened the door.

Duncan was pacing the room, dressed in court clothes but with a longsword and dagger on his back. They were his namesake's weapons – the previous grey warden commander – his father's mentor.

Duncan was tall, like his father, with the same ready smile and easy manner, but his hair was dark like his mother's and his build more delicate. He was renowned as a quick and deadly fighter, more in the style of his mother, and the palace had learned to keep a close eye on their locks from the time he was old enough to hold a piece of wire.

Sigrun had always liked him – had even taught him some of his skills on the field. She'd learned to respect him as a warrior and there was even a hint of friendship there, although the boy had always been a little in awe of her. But all of this was secondary to what she felt when she walked in the door.

The touch of the taint she could feel. It was coming from the king.

"Ancestors," she cursed. "You didn't escape it."

The four of them sat around the small table in Duncan's room. Leliana was talking – her voice was still captivating, despite her forty-five years. Age had touched her lightly and her duties as a sometime ambassador/liason/spy had kept her fit. Sigrun had no doubt she would be as powerful a fighter as she was twenty years ago.

"Alistair told me about the taint when I became his..."

"...spy?" Duncan intervened, grinning. Leliana grinned at him.

"For lack of a better word," she said. "He thought it was important that I know – in case the information leaked from other sources. One of my duties – and Zevran's of course – was to make sure that didn't happen."

"So you know," said Sigrun. "And you Rowan?"

"The queen came to me after she lost the third child. She had talked with Wynne about it before that – but Wynne didn't think there was anything we could do to stop the taint from corrupting the babes. We worked together on a way to overcome that – one of the reasons she spent much of her time with Duncan at the tower. She needed constant magical monitoring to keep him healthy."

"But when Duncan was born there was no hint of the taint in him," Sigrun said. "We came to make sure of that."

Rowan nodded. "I think that was the fault of our interventions. With some of the warden mages we were able to sense the taint in the blood and isolate it – very delicate, time consuming work. And we contained it with magic. But the taint was still there. We mistakenly believed it would be filtered out – but it looks like it remained, locked in the blood, until our magics started to fade."

"Why didn't you try to contain the taint like that with the king?"

"We did. The taint in the king and queen was too far advanced to contain – we couldn't even begin to capture it. But the blood filtering to the unborn child – that was much easier to manage. It seems the mother's body does all it can to get rid of the taint itself – it's even possible the queen could have had a successful pregnancy without our intervention if...."

Leliana pursed her lips "... if Alistair hadn't been the father," she said.

"The child would still bear the taint," Rowan continued, "and it would bear the taint from birth, and we don't know how long a child with the taint can last. It's possible they could live for thirty years – but I wouldn't like to see how a child with the taint would develop."

"Duncan..."

"The taint was contained in me," the King said. "It's as though I went through the joining a few weeks ago, rather than when I was born."

"I don't know that we'd even be able to contain the taint with a new warden – although we've been researching ways to do that, to see if we can delay the onset by a few more years at least. And to be honest if we contained the taint in a Warden we would defeat the purpose of the Joining altogether - there's no way to stop the taint without erasing the advantage it gives the Wardens. It's the taint that gives them the ability to sense darkspawn. "On top of that we keep coming up against the same problem though – the magics can't be sustained for long enough. We use the subject's life force to power them and after a while it just... stops working."

"Can't you renew them?"

He shrugged. "Possibly. But the problem remains. Any child Duncan fathers will also bear the last thing we need is a royal line contaminated by darkspawn – it wouldn't be long before people started to comment on the short life span of Ferelden royalty."

"We need to find a way to cure it," Leliana said.

Sigrun found her heart beating faster. "Ancestors!" she swore. "Do you think we have been doing anything else since the architect was defeated? There is no way to cure the taint. 800 years the wardens have been living with this. Living and dying. Why do you think we can cure it now?"

Duncan sighed. He looked at Leliana and Rowan in turn. "I called you here for a reason," he said. "I needed people I could trust with this. My father... didn't want any of you to know."

"What is it?" Sigrun asked.

"I think there is a way to cure the taint," he said. "But in order to find it – we need to find my brother."


	3. Chapter 3

THREE

Duncan had had the dreams since he was little, but never told his parents. He just thought it was a symptom of his loneliness – an only child growing up isolated from other children, protected by all and sundry, kept from adventure and excitement by virtue of his royal blood.

Once he'd reached the age of six his mother had relaxed her stranglehold on him and allowed him to explore the palace and grounds freely – but he was never far from a watchful eye and he wished he had a friend who would help him evade those eyes. Someone who wouldn't think of him as the prince, but as a friend.

The boy in his dreams was older than him – blond and sunny looking, always smiling. He didn't know his name, only that he whispered suggestions to him of what might be fun to do, where it might be fun to go. His parents had despaired of finding out how it was that Duncan knew every nook and cranny of the palace – he never told him it was the boy's suggestions during his dreams – _the area behind the throne bulges wrongly – there must be another room there, there are always servants entrances – the dogs know where the air is coming from..._

When he reached ten years old the boy was no longer really a boy and he appeared less often. When he did appear he looked less like a friend, although he still acted like one. His face became harder and older.

It was only when he was in trouble with his father one day that he realised the boy in his dreams looked almost exactly like him. The boy in his dreams was grown up, he thought. He won't want to be friends with me any more.

He stopped seeing him completely when he turned sixteen. There were no more dreams about his friend, and part of him mourned the loss. However, there were other compensations to his life by this stage – his mother and father had upped his training and intensified his education, almost as though they were afraid he would have to take the throne at any moment.

When he turned seventeen they told him about the taint. He still remembered the look on his father's face as his mother explained that they would have to leave him soon – in a few years, maybe as little as one. He hadn't cried. He had always known there was something about being a warden they weren't telling him.

That night the boy returned. The resemblance to his father was more than striking – and Duncan thought at first he was dreaming about the conversation he'd had with his parents that day. But the face was younger than his father's – the blond hair was untouched by grey. And the boy's eyes weren't his father's deep hazel – they were clear, green and piercing – like the eyes of a snake.

"I don't have much time," he said in the dream. "Mother won't let me communicate with you any more. She's been watching the fade like a hawk. I'm so sorry I haven't been there for you."

"Where have you been?" Duncan asked. "I've missed you."

He smiled. "And I've missed you, brother," he said. "When the time comes, you'll need to find me. Tell our father what I've said. He'll understand who I am."

"Wait, _our _father? Who are you really?"

"Alistair will explain," his friend said. Flames appeared surrounding the man and he started to fade from view. "Forgive them, Duncan. They didn't know."

The next morning he debated whether to tell them about the dream, but his friend had seemed so sad – so genuine – that he found himself knocking on his parent's door before dinner.

They were both sitting by the fire, laughing, when he entered. His mother looked for a moment younger than one of the kitchen maids – her dark hair was loose around her face and the firelight shone on it, somehow missing the streaks of grey. His father too, looked younger, or perhaps it was because the image of his friend was so clear in his mind and he could see the resemblance.

"Duncan!" Alistair said and got to his feet to hug his son. "We didn't expect to see you till dinner."

His mother also got up to embrace him. "What is it, darling?" she asked him. "Are you worried about what we told you?"

He shook his head, although that, too, was preying on his mind.

"I had a dream," he said. "Last night...." Miranda still had her hands on his shoulders. She frowned slightly and motioned for him to sit in the chair she had been occupying. She perched on the arm and his father leaned against the mantlepiece.

"A dream?" she asked.

It came pouring out of him then. How his friend had always been there for him, a companion who visited while he slept. How they talked and played in his dreams. How as the boy got older he showed him places in the castle, gave him ideas of what to do.

"They stopped," he said. "A year ago. The dreams stopped and I was sad for a while. But last night he came back." Duncan looked up at his father. His mother had taken his hand while he spoke and she seemed unconscious of it now, because she was squeezing it with so much strength it was beginning to hurt. "He told me that you were... our father," Duncan said. "He said that when the time came, I would have to find him. He said that his mother wouldn't let him communicate with me any more and that she was watching the fade. He told me to tell you this... that you would understand who he was."

Alistair's lips were pressed tightly together and there was a deep pain in his hazel eyes. Miranda's grip on his hand was very painful now and he gently extricated himself from it.

"So," she said. "It's come back to us."

His father gave a tight nod. "I should never have let you talk me into it," he said softly. She cocked an eyebrow.

"The alternative wasn't an option, Alistair," Duncan had rarely heard his mother's voice ring with such command and he suddenly remembered that _she _had led the armies against the darkspawn, not his father.

"Well, I suppose we'll have to tell you, Duncan," Alistair said finally. Miranda gave a tight nod and found her son's hand again.

And so they told him about the ritual. He'd heard of Morrigan, of course. He'd heard of all of his parent's companions. But he'd never been told why out of all of them, the witch of the wilds never visited.

Oh, Leliana had told him that she'd despised her father, but she'd also confessed that she'd actually been a very good friend of her mother's. That often while they were camping the two woman had sat together by Morrigan's fire, talking.

"Your mother saved her life, you know," Leliana had told him once. "Not that I ever heard a word of thanks from her about it."

But no matter what he said to his parents, they would never be drawn into conversation about her. Miranda's expression whenever she was mentioned was strained – wistful but angry at the same time. His father's temper – usually so easy – would immediately become short and he would often leave the room. So Duncan knew virtually nothing of her, save for what he could get from Leliana and Zevran on their infrequent visits.

The story his parents related to him now (short on MANY details, his young mind was certain) was nothing short of astonishing. He couldn't imagine his father so much as looking at a woman other than his mother – they were still capable of quite sickening displays of affection which had been a constant source of embarrassment for him since his early teens – let alone sleeping with one – having a child with one!

Alistair didn't try to offer an explanation for why he had gone through with the ritual, but Miranda's cool, commanding tone told Duncan exactly why. She'd persuaded him to do it. Duncan couldn't imagine what it had cost her – cost them. But he wouldn't be here now if they hadn't.

"What did he mean," Duncan asked finally, after the story was finished and there was a long silence. "What did he mean when he said _when the time comes_?"

Alistair had let his wife tell the story of the ritual. He'd turned to face the fire and his hands were firmly clasped behind his back. Duncan looked up at his mother, still sitting on the arm of her chair. "I don't know," she said. She got up and moved to her husband, stroking his shoulder until one of his arms loosened, taking his hand in hers and turning him to face their son, "although I don't think it's a coincidence he's made contact.. so soon after we told you about the taint."

Alistair's brow furrowed. "Yes, that seems an unlikely coincidence," he said. "We'll need to make plans," he continued. "There's got to be something we haven't tried to find her."

"Find them," Miranda corrected gently. Duncan looked at his parents – impressed, not for the first time, at their strength.

It was a year later they told him they'd be leaving. He was devastated, although he'd been expecting it for some time. His father had started having the dreams first – no one was supposed to know about it, but the servants talked and it filtered to him. For a few short weeks Miranda paced the castle halls, almost frantic with worry. When they came to her she seemed relieved and Duncan realised she'd been terrified Alistair was going to leave without her.

On the morning of their departure Alistair pressed a box into Duncan's hands. "Open it if you feel you need to," he said. "It's for when the time comes."

The embraced fiercely. Duncan couldn't imagine what life was going to be like without the solid presence of his father there to help him.

His mother hugged him just as fiercely and kissed him, but didn't seem able to say anything. She didn't have to. He would miss them both until the day he died.

He took up his duties as king, trying with all his might and education and training to be as compassionate as his father – as practical as his mother. He didn't see how he could fill shoes as large as theirs – they were heroes, they had passed into legend. He was just a boy who missed his parents.

And now he had to find this child - more precisely, he had to let Leliana find him, for there was no way, as a new king, he could leave Denerim and go searching Ferelden for someone he'd only recently discovered was real. The last thing he wanted to do was send Leliana away from him - her calm, measured presence had helped him through the worst of the separation, her advice, often delivered with light touches of irony, was what he relied on the most. Although he found Zevran just as effective a bodyguard, the older elf was far from the restful companion the Orlesian bard had always been. And now both of them would be taken from him.

He found himself wishing, sometimes, that he'd had a life more similar to his parents'. The freedom to wander Ferelden was a luxury he would never have, and he realised that they had given up something precious when his father took the throne.


	4. Chapter 4

FOUR

They met near Redcliffe. Leliana, Rowan, Anders, Oghren and Zevran. The wardens had responded quickly to Leliana's request for aid, especially when they heard the full story. Sigrun couldn't leave her duties as commander in Amaranthine, though and Nathaniel had taken Leliana's place at court to protect Duncan.

"A position rich with irony," he'd said to Leliana when he'd arrived from Amaranthine. "Queen Miranda would have been proud."

"I miss Sten," Oghren said. Zevran cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Really?"

"Well, no," he replied. "But someone had to say it."

Leliana ignored them. "Duncan gave us all the knowledge he had about Morrigan's last known whereabouts," she said as they sat around the fire.

"Duncan is it?" Oghren said. "First name terms with the king eh? Hur hur."

"Shut up Oghren," said Anders.

"I don't take orders from people in skirts," Oghren growled. "Sparkle fingers."

"Oh, everyone knows you're just afraid of your affection for me," Anders replied. The two wardens were the same as they had always been – although Anders' hair was beginning to grey. Leliana wondered how long it would be before their calling came. She thanked the maker that Zevran had never been tempted to join the wardens. For all of her companions to go the same way in quick succession – she would feel so alone.

"To be honest it's mostly out of date," Leliana continued. "A sighting near Haven just after the coronation. Another in Amaranthine when Duncan was born. The last information Zevran picked up had her in Orlais. But really information is not what's going to help us here."

"What is?" Anders asked.

She held out three phylacteries. "These are," she said.

"Phylacteries," Rowan said. "They're from the king, the queen and Duncan. Of course it would be better if we had one for Morrigan – better still if there was one for the child, but we're hoping that Alistair's at least, and maybe Duncan's, will give us enough to track them down."

Zevran cocked an eyebrow. "But for that, we'll need a templar, yes?" he said.

"Which is why we're going to the monastery at Redcliffe. There's an old... friend of the king's there. Alistair told Duncan that he owed him a favour or two."

"A templar owes Alistair a favour?" Zevran asked. "I find that difficult to believe, considering what he told us of his time there."

"It seems he didn't tell us everything," Leliana said. "Our little templar was more private than we thought."

The monastery was about a day's ride from the town, perched on the edge of the lake. Leliana had never been there, despite her chantry connections. It struck her how beautiful it was – overlooking the water, it's carefully tilled fields and gardens surrounding a delicately built castle that, although defensively sound, certainly didn't give the impression of a place of war.

The sisters who ran it reminded her of those in Lothering – they were calm, measured and at peace with the world, something that she soon realised was necessary – given their charges.

In the courtyard below them the screams of children playing echoed. Ferelden had been at peace for many years, but there was still no shortage of orphans for the chantry's charity to take in. About fifty boys and girls lived at the Redcliffe monastery at this stage. Aged ranged between four and fourteen.

Most of them were not slated for the templar order, of course. They would become brothers and sisters, although a select few would leave and make their way in the world as merchants, traders, farmers. Some would never take their vows but stay anyway.

"I remember the king," the revered mother said as they sat in her study. She was a grey haired woman with grey eyes but her skin was sun-browned and her face had wrinkles that could only be made from smiling. "I was only a girl, just new to the order when he arrived." She shook her head and tutted, "such an angry boy," she said. "I remember thinking we'd have to keep an eye on him – the angry ones are often the worst bullies, you understand."

"Alistair was a bully?" Leliana said. Only Zevran had accompanied her into the chantry and they exchanged a glance.

"Oh no," the revered mother said. "Not at all! He was... well he was a lovely child in the end. So handsome! That beautiful hair.. and he had a way of smiling at you that made you think he could never do anything wrong..." she smiled to herself. "He had a smart mouth though - couldn't stop himself from backchatting – that made him very unpopular with some of the sisters. The revered mother at the time... she didn't like that sort of thing. But he stood up for the other children. They loved him."

"Alistair always told me he didn't have any friends in the chantry," Leliana said. She could well imagine him backchatting to the sisters, but in his stories there had never been any mention of the other children in the monastery. It had sounded much like there had just been Alistair and a group of brooding brothers and sisters, all ancient, crabby and powerful.

"Well... that's probably true, to a point," the revered mother said, pursing her lips. "He didn't have any particular friends who he played with. And you must understand, very few of the orphans here became Templar initiates - they were a very different type and Alistair frankly... antagonised them. But the orphanage children - they looked up to him – and he was very kind to them. Especially to Yuri."

"Ah yes, the very templar we've come to meet," Zevran said. The revered mother smiled at him.

"Yuri was a troubled child," she said. "He came here younger than most – he was only five when he got here. The king was twelve – just about to start training with armour. He didn't have much time out of the watch of the trainers by this stage – he only really had contact with the other children at meal times and when they were sleeping."

"He slept with the orphans, not the initiates?" Zevran said then.

The revered mother pursed her lips, then stood up and started pacing the room. She was straight backed and energetic despite her age. "At the insistence of Brother Hubert," she said. "Apparently Alistair used to sit in his cell and scream until the brothers came to him. The templar initiates have private rooms, you understand, the better to meditate."

Leliana found herself laughing. She remembered that conversation with Alistair, on the road in the Brescillian woods. It had been one of their first talks. She had been so shocked, and convinced he was joking with her. The revered mother stopped and smiled at them. "Brother Hubert thought if he had to share a room he would be less inclined to disrupt the rest of the monastery."

Zevran grinned. "Oh, he delighted in keeping the rest of us awake during our travels," the elf said. Leliana shushed him. The revered mother didn't need to know that it wasn't screaming that had kept them awake on the road. Well.. not often any way.

The revered mother continued, "The other boys teased Yuri – for no particular reason – just because he was younger than they were, and smaller. Alistair – the king, he stood up for Yuri and the boy worshipped him."

"Stood up for him?" Leliana asked. She found herself fascinated by this picture of the young Alistair, explaining so much about why, with all his losses, he still managed to be the decent, loyal friend he had been to her for so long.

"Yuri came from a village near Ostagar – the other children used to tease him because they thought he was chasind. He was small and dark – so it's even possible he was. But he never talked about his parents, and never denied anything the other boys said about him. It was when they were eating dinner one day – Alistair didn't come in till halfway through the meal and he found Yuri surrounded by older boys. The sisters... didn't supervise the boys at mealtimes you understand.." the revered mother looked guilty "we didn't _used _to any way. That duty was left to the older boys – the farmers and brothers."

"The older boys were trying to force Yuri to eat. He never had much of an appetite, poor thing, he was only small... the boys around had dumped their meals on the floor and were trying to get Yuri to eat the food 'Like a proper chasind beast,' the ringleader was saying." She looked disgusted.

"Alistair was fresh from the training field – he even had a wooden sword on him. Well he saw what they were doing and went crazy..."

She smiled a little then. "I'm told the ringleader … what was his name? I think it was Bannik... couldn't walk for two weeks afterwards. But that wasn't the best of it. He took the supervising brothers to task in front of all the boys, called them out for being insensitive and ignorant and even threatened to give them a beating like the one he'd given to Bannik. They were furious – dragged him up in front of the revered mother, wanted to have him thrown out of the chantry. But the revered mother... she just looked at him, heard the story and let him go. She didn't say anything to him at all. I think she knew she couldn't punish him for standing up for the other boy – but she also could see what we hadn't been able to see before that – that it wasn't right to let the boys supervise the boys – that we needed to take better care of them."

She sat back behind the desk again. "Nowadays we all eat together," she said, smiling. "The revered mother, the sisters, the brothers, the children. It makes for a much more peaceful repast."

"That must have caused trouble for Alistair later," Zevran said. "From those boys – in my experience people of that sort do not let things go easily."

The revered mother nodded. "Oh, they tried to get back at him – but they weren't templar initiates, those boys, and Alistair was bigger than they were. Mostly they tried to take it out on Yuri – the poor boy suffered quite a bit. But they never tried anything when Alistair was near."

Leliana found herself close to tears. She missed him. She missed them both. She looked at Zevran, who also looked suspiciously emotional.

"May we see Yuri?" she asked.

The revered mother nodded. "Of course," she said. "He'll be on the training field at this time of day."

Leliana rose, as did Zevran. As they were leaving the study she turned to the revered mother. "Thank you," she said.

Her holiness looked surprised. "What for?"

"For letting us share part of our friend's past," she said.

The revered mother's eyes filled with tears suddenly. "We all miss them," she said. "But I suppose it must be worse for the two of you. To lose friends is never easy."

The training field was mostly empty – only three or four other initiates were practicing with each other. Yuri was close to the edge of the field, surrounded by a group of six or so boys. They were about fourteen years old and dressed in practice armour.

The revered mother had said that Yuri had been a small child. Leliana's mind refused to accept that – looking at the giant in front of her. He was almost as big as Sten. His thick, black hair was cut short and he had straight, thick eyebrows above dark eyes – no wonder the boys had thought he was chasind. He also had a fearsome looking scar down one side of his cheek. He looked up as they approached. "Your holiness," he said. His voice was deep and rumbled through his massive chest. Leliana found herself wondering if he could sing.

"Yuri, can these recruits be dismissed? These people would like to speak with you."

The massive man nodded and waved his hand. The boys melted away almost silently.

"I'll leave the three of you," the revered mother said. She put her hand on Leliana's arm as she turned to go. "I hope you find what you need, sister."

"We can talk over there," Yuri said and pointed to a row of benches at the side of the field. She assumed it was a classroom of sorts for the recruits.

They sat on two of the benches and Yuri looked at them. "I recognise you," he said to Leliana. "Alistair wrote about you. His descriptions were quite eloquent actually, although they didn't do you justice."

Leliana found herself blushing. "He wrote about me?" she said. Yuri nodded.

"We didn't correspond much," he said. "A few letters here and there over the years. He brought the queen to visit me once – lovely woman she was. And I met Duncan when he was just a baby."

"He never mentioned you," Zevran said.

Yuri looked up. "I asked him not to," he said. "People expect things of you when you know the king. Alistair understood that better than most people."

Zevran nodded.

Leliana reached into her shirt and took out the letter she had been carrying. "Alistair's son – Duncan, he asked me to give you this."

Yuri took the letter from her, an eyebrow raised. Leliana folded her hands in her lap and waited. The big man removed his gauntlets to reveal surprisingly long fingered and delicate hands. He broke the seal on the letter and opened it. Inside, another folded letter fell out which he caught with his other hand before it slipped to the ground.

He examined the second letter and his eyes widened, but he didn't open it. Instead he read the first silently, his expression unreadable until he neared the end, when his eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips. "Mmm," he said – a deep rumbling sound that Leliana could feel right through to her toes. He had a lovely voice.

The templar gently put the first letter next to him on the bench and opened the second. "This is from Alistair," he told them. Leliana was surprised – Duncan hadn't mentioned a letter from Alistair.

The letter was shorter than Duncan's and it took the templar only a minute to read, but he sat looking at it for a long moment afterwards and a palpable melancholy seemed to pour from him.

Finally the templar looked up at them. "I think you should read them," he said. "I don't know what to think just yet – it will give me time to decide my answer."

Leliana knew what was in the first letter. Duncan explained why they needed a templar to try to track down Morrigan and her son - Alistair's son.

The second letter, the one from Alistair, Leliana didn't know she wanted to read. But she took it from the templar any way.

_My dear friend,_

_A long time ago I made a decision – well, a joint decision really, to do something that was probably a mistake. I always knew the time would come when that mistake might come back to haunt me, but I did it anyway. You of all people know that the consequences of our actions come back to hurt us – or if we're very unlucky, hurt those we love._

_My son has need of you. I don't know exactly why, because chances are by the time you get this letter I will be gone, but I can guess it involves finding someone, or something, that will be quite difficult to find without your help. I hope the research you and the other templars have been doing can be used for this. I hope you will help him. _

_And I hope, when you find what they're looking for, you can bring yourself to forgive me._

_Alistair._

She passed the letter to Zevran, who cast his quick elven eyes over it before giving it back to Yuri. The big man took it and let it rest on his lap for a moment, his dark eyes unreadable.

"Did the revered mother tell you much about Alistair and me?" he said finally.

"Only that he stood up for you in the chantry," Zevran replied.

"Aye," the templar continued. "And on the practice field, and wherever else I happened to be. He was a good man, the king. The best, in fact," he sighed heavily and looked away. "I wonder why he never believed that."

Leliana thought she could guess. The years at Redcliffe, with Isolde breathing down his neck. The loss of his mother. The scorn of the other nobles.

"I think he needed more people like you in his life," she found herself saying. "That would have helped."

Yuri wiped his face with the back of his hand. "So," he said. "You need my help to track down maleficarum. The revered mother didn't mention to you I haven't been in the field for more than five years? I'm a bit out of practice."

"We need someone who knew the king," Zevran said. "Someone we could trust with the news about his little...indiscretion."

"A bastard son of a bastard son eh?" The templar chuckled. "Well I could do worse than get out of this place for a while. This mage who's helping you, Rowan, did he tell you how phylacteries work?"

"No," Leliana said. "But he did say that it was possible to track less effectively through the blood of a mage's relative. That's why the king and queen and Duncan all had phylacteries made. The last thing the queen wanted was for one of her brood to go missing."

"Well, it's possible," the templar continued. "But it's not easy, and it's not as accurate as the regular methods we use. I'll need to examine them. Are you staying at the chantry tonight?"

Leliana looked at Zevran. "We're camped an hour or so away," she said. "We have... other companions that probably wouldn't be fit company for a revered mother. We thought it would be better to leave them where they are."

"Very well," the templar said. "You'll need to give me some time to pack then."

The templar was a taciturn companion, only speaking when spoken to on the way back to their camp. But he was pleasant company in his way. There was something reassuring in his measured footsteps.

He wore simple chainmail, rather than the regular heavy plate templar armour, and there was an axe strapped to his back. It was a plain weapon that had seen some hard use.

He didn't seem surprised that their companions were a dwarf and an apostate mage. Anders didn't take to the man immediately – after all these years he still disliked templars, had never really warmed to Alistair in fact, although Leliana had his suspicions as to why that was. Oghren, however, seemed delighted by the big man's presence. "I'd like to have you at my back in a fight," he said. "He he. You're so sodding huge, the 'spawn wouldn't even see me!"

After being introduced to everyone Yuri sat by the fire with Duncan's phylactery in his hands. He had discarded the queen and king's – saying that a brother was a better match, although he might need to go back to the king and queen's later. "They could be very helpful," he said. "Sometimes it's easier to separate the different pulls when one of the subjects is.. no longer with us."

Rowan sat with the templar and the two concentrated fiercely for well over an hour. Finally Yuri sighed and leant back, and the mage grinned one of his rare grins. "Well," Rowan said. "We can give you a general direction. And it looks like we're in luck – we won't be needing to head to Orlais. The pull is east, towards Orzammar."

Yuri nodded and closed his eyes. "We'll be able to pinpoint his exact location when we're closer," he said. "I'll need to come with you until then." He placed Duncan's phylactery back in the box next to the other two, his long fingered hand resting on it for a moment before he picked up them up and cradled them both in his hands. Again the melancholy that Leliana and Zevran had seen on the practice field returned and she quietly got to her feet, motioning for the others to do the same.  

"It's time we slept," she said softly.

The next morning she found him in almost exactly the same position. There was no sign he had slept, and there were shadows under his eyes. The phylacteries were back in their box, sitting next to the log that was his chair.

No one else was up. She had always been used to being the first awake in camp and it was a surprise to have company while she busied herself preparing the simple porridge they normally ate for breakfast.

"I'm glad you're awake first," Yuri said finally, after a few minutes of pleasant silence. "I wanted to have a word with you in private."

"If you wish," she set the pot to bubbling and sat on the ground near him. It struck her how still he was – there was absolutely no wasted movement about him at all. He looked at her for a long moment.

"You're not telling me everything," he said to her. "There's more to this child than just his royal blood, isn't there?"

Leliana cocked an eyebrow. "What makes you think that?" she said.

"The king and queen have been gone for months," the templar said. "Duncan is a capable ruler – he's young, he's healthy – there's even talk of an impending marriage to an Orlesian princess. There's no reason for stripping him of his most trusted advisor and running around the country trying to hunt down a bastard son."

"No reason?" she said. "Alistair's son has a valid claim to the throne. He's older than Duncan – there's a real threat he may end up being a challenger."

"The boy is what – twenty-four years old now?" Yuri said. "If he was going to challenge for the throne he would have done so as soon as the king and queen departed. As it is he's significantly absent. There have been no rumours of his birth – _none. _And I for one know that the king would never have been unfaithful to his wife – Alistair just wasn't that type."

She had to give him that point.

"And the last reason – the reason I know there's more to this than you are telling me – I found out last night while you were all sleeping," the Templar fixed his dark eyes on hers for a long moment.

"The king and queen are still alive."


	5. Chapter 5

FIVE

Duncan stood in front of the mirror and adjusted his collar. He tried to smooth his hair but only succeeded in messing it up more than it was. Nathaniel came up behind him and stopped his hand as he tried to smooth it again. "Here," the older man said, and deftly rearranged it for him. "Now don't touch it."

Duncan swallowed. "I'd rather face a horde of darkspawn," he said. "This is intolerable. Why is this so difficult? I've met women before."

"Of course," Nathaniel said then. "But you weren't going to marry them. It does make a difference."

"How would you know," the King said then. "You've never married."

Nathaniel gave one of his rare smiles. "And I think you're beginning to realise why," he said. Duncan sighed. He had watched his mother and father all his life - they were an equal partnership, but more than that, they cared for each other. He knew that kind of marriage was rare in nobility, but he'd always nourished a secret hope that he would have something similar of his own.

Although he had dallied in the last year or so with several ladies, of noble birth as well as common, none had inspired in him the sort of passion he'd seen between his parents and he had begun to think that perhaps that aspect of life would be denied him.

"What if she's ugly?" he said then. "What if she has a whiny voice? What if I don't like her?"

"From all accounts Princess Amelie is beautiful, charming and witty. I'm sure you'll like her."

"Looks aren't everything, Nathaniel," Duncan said. "She might be a shrew. Or an idiot." A thought much more frightening suddenly occurred to him. "She might think _I'm_ an idiot." He looked at himself in the mirror. The collar felt like a noose. "Of course she'll think I'm an idiot," he said. "I _am _an idiot."

"Your majesty is not an idiot," his bodyguard replied. "Although they might think so if you delay any more. Come. They are waiting."

He tugged at his collar again, but Nathaniel's insistent arm forced him into movement.

"His majesty, King Duncan Theirin," the herald announced. Duncan waved as regally as he could as he entered the banqueting hall. The nobles were standing around the long tables plied with food and drink. Every head turned to look at him and he managed to curb the urge to swallow nervously. He had been trained for this from birth - he was used to court functions. But this time was different.

"Is she here yet?" he hissed to Nathaniel as he made his way towards the tables.

"No, your majesty," Nathaniel said. "She will be required to make an entrance after you - for propriety's sake."

Duncan knew this, but he'd wanted to hear Nathaniel's voice. Although he still missed Leliana (and even Zevran, although he dreaded to think what the elf's commentary for this little occasion might have been like) he'd come to find Nathaniel's cool, dry competence almost as reassuring.

Arl Teagan was standing with his wife near the head of one of the tables and Duncan made his way there in relief. Teagan was good company. His auburn hair was streaked with grey but he was still a fit and powerful man, and his administration of Redcliffe after Eammon's appointment to chancellor had served the district well.

"Teagan," Duncan said, gripping his friend's hand warmly. "It's good to see you."

"And you, my liege," Teagan said then. "Although I imagine you're somewhat preoccupied today."

Duncan swallowed. He had no real need to pretend with this man - who had known his parents so well and been a regular guest at the palace since his birth. Teagan saw his expression and laughed heartily. "Don't worry, your majesty," he said then. "Marriage is actually quite a lot of fun, once you get used to it."

The herald trumpeted and Duncan felt a wave of nervous nausea wash over him.

"Her majesty, Princess Amelie of Orlais," the herald announced. The room turned to look towards the double doors as they opened.

Two women stood framed in the doorway. It was immediately obvious which was the princess. She was dressed in an elaborate Orlesian gown of dark blue silk which set off the shining gold of her hair, piled in braids atop her head and held in place by a gold circlet. Her companion, obviously a lady in waiting, held the train of her gown as she walked down the short flight of steps to the dining room and across the floor towards the king. She then deftly hooked the train to the dress in such a way that it wouldn't drag on the floor as the princess walked and both of them dropped an elaborate curtsey in front of him.

"Your highness," Duncan said, remembering just in time the formal words he had prepared for this occasion. "May I offer you the heartfelt welcome of the Ferelden people. We are indeed fortunate that Orlais has condescended to allow it's most precious treasure into our kingdom."

The princess looked up and fixed him with a pair of twinkling green eyes that made him catch his breath. Her face remained solemn, however, and her lilting accent made her words sound like music as she responded. "It is an honour," she said. "I bring greetings and best wishes from my mother, the Empress, and hope that relations between our two nations will continue to flourish."

He held out his hand to help her to his feet. Her fingers enclosed his - they were long and delicate and adorned with several rings. He also noted, with a slight hint of glee, that her palms were sweating. Despite her cool appearance, it seemed the princess was just as nervous as he was. He found himself smiling down at her in sympathy - mixed with a healthy dollop of admiration. _Certainly not ugly, _he thought to himself. _And those eyes hold the possibility of humour. Perhaps this will be easier than I thought._

The court erupted into cheers and Duncan allowed himself to let out his breath. First meeting and he'd managed not to stumble over his words or look like a complete idiot. He hoped it was a sign they were off to a good start.


	6. Chapter 6

SIX

They'd told Yuri, in the end. Really, Leliana had suspected they would have to tell him from the start, but Zevran – ever cautious – had recommended not. The story still seemed astonishing to her. To think that Alistair could have done something like this... but she knew how fiercely Miranda would have fought to keep him and suspected the driving force had been the Queen. Alistair could deny her nothing. Yuri had not been surprised that his friend and his wife had departed for the deep roads and not died at the hand of bandits, he simply nodded.

"Alistair stopped me from becoming a grey warden," Yuri said. "I tried to join – after the blight when Miranda was recruiting, but Alistair told me in no uncertain terms it was not a life I wanted. I... resented him for that. Now it seems he had a valid reason."

At the end of the tale Yuri stood up. They were still encamped. Anders and Zevran had disappeared somewhere – their packs were next to the remains of the fire, ready to be claimed. Oghren was busy with his own gear – repacking again – he never seemed to have enough room in his pack for all his gear, and Leliana had her suspicions why. It clinked a lot more than anyone else's.

"We have a long way to travel, and I doubt it will be an easy journey," she said. "We'd best be off."

The journey to Orzammar made Leliana melancholy. As they skirted the lake and made their way on into the Frostback Mountains she found herself seeking Zevran's company. They didn't speak much. Zevran's usual flirting had fallen off over the years as he became easier in her company (and perhaps, because on one occasion, they _had _ been lovers) and she found herself singing short snatches of ballads and tales she had learned in Orlais – favourites of Miranda's usually, although at one stage she found herself singing the ballad of the archdemon.

Surprisingly, the templar Yuri joined her when she sang on occasion – his deep, rumbling bass a welcome counterpoint to her high soprano.

They had battles together – twice they were waylaid by bandits, once by wolves. In the foothills of the mountains they were attacked by Darkspawn and Zevran was injured _if Alistair and Miranda had been with us the trap would never have worked, _she had thought. Rowan healed him with consummate skill – his magics were far in advance of his mother's. She had taught him all she knew in the short months they had known each other and Rowan had been improving on it ever since.

In the mountains, about four days from Orzammar, the Templar performed the ritual again. It was more complicated this time, they were trying to pinpoint a location rather than just find a general direction. Leliana hugged her cloak around herself in the cold night air. There was a hint of snow smell on the wind and she hoped they'd be able to outpace the blizzards.

At the end of the ritual Yuri sought her out by the fire again. "He's in the deep roads," he told her. "All three of them are."

"They're still alive?" she said. She didn't like to think what that meant. She'd been having nightmares on and off, since Yuri had told her. About the broodmother.

"They are," Yuri replied.

"_Both _of them?" it was crucial, she knew. Both of them must be alive.

"Yes."

Leliana sighed. If Alistair was alive there was no way Miranda could have been taken. The former templar would kill her himself before that could happen.

"Why would the child be there too?" she wondered then. "What purpose could he have in the deep roads?"

Yuri shrugged. "Aren't we looking for a cure for the taint?" he said. "Didn't the boy tell Duncan to find him when the time came? I can think of no better place to find answers about the taint than the deep roads."

"I wonder," Leliana said, thinking of a voice she hadn't heard in twenty-five years, a pair of eyes, green and piercing, a flare of power. "I wonder if his mother is with him."


	7. Chapter 7

SEVEN

He was climbing the wall of a chasm - a chasm so deep he couldn't see the bottom, although in the back of his mind he was aware he had come from there originally. The walls were jagged and cut his hands, but despite the blood that flowed freely over them, he continued. The pain seemed separate from him. He was nearly at the top - he could see the edge of the wall ahead and the closeness of his goal was enough to spur him on to greater efforts.

Finally, he pulled himself over the edge and flopped, exhausted, on the dirt floor of the enormous cavern.

"Well, well," a voice drawled from above him. "Who have we here? A deepstalker with hands?"

He looked up into the eyes of the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Her jet black hair was pulled back from her chiselled cheekbones, emphasising the deep pools of her clear green eyes. The eyes were familiar. He felt a jolt of recognition, although he couldn't place where he had seen them before.

Her full lips were curled in what looked like a snarl which, if anything, made her more lovely. She was dressed - barely he was suddenly, painfully aware - in what looked like a motly array of rags, and he could see the top of a staff over her shoulder.

_Apostate, _he thought as he hastily pulled himself to his feet. _But what is she doing here?_

_Hang on... where IS here exactly?_

Manners took over and he sketched a quick bow."I am Duncan," he said. "No deepstalker, lady. Who might you be?"

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and she folded her arms across her chest. "Manners is it?" she said then. "Well it seems your mother taught you well in that regard at least. More than I had hoped for, truly."

"And yet you do not deign to answer me," he said.

She laughed then, a deep, hearty chuckle that was seductively infectious. "And I must apologise," she said. "You can call me Morrigan."

Duncan remembered almost too late that he stood on the edge of a cliff, as he was about to take a step back. How had he not recognised her? Leliana's description had been accurate and eloquent, yet the woman seemed young - as young as Duncan. But then, she was a witch of the wilds, daughter of Flemeth, who had lived for many centuries.

"Ah, I see you have heard of me," she continued. "Which is all to the best, I do believe." She unfolded her arms and took a step forward, then another, until she was so close that he could smell her scent - flowery with a hint of musk, almost overpowering in its sensuality. She lifted a finger and lightly touched his cheek, tracing her finger down past his chin... his neck.. to the opening of his shirt. Duncan's breath came faster and he had to fight to keep control of his body, which was torn between wanting to twist away and wanting - oh so badly - to sink right into her embrace. She leaned forward until her lips brushed his ear. "I need something from you, my dear boy," she whispered, and her voice sent shudders through him from head to foot. "Because I think you know where he is, don't you? Or if you don't...." her fingers, which had been lingering at his throat, parted his shirt and trailed lower to rest lightly just over his heart, "you soon will."

He took a deep, ragged breath, unable to speak as her scent overpowered him. Her fingers started to roam again, lower and lower and alarm bells were flashing in the back of his head. _This was the woman, _he thought frantically _who slept with his father - who conspired to kill her own mother. She can change into a spider - a bear! She..._

_was my mother's friend...._

A clear picture of his mother's face cut through the haze of desire that was crowding him and his hand shot out and captured that of the witch - just before it was about to venture into his most intimate regions.

"My lady Morrigan," he said, and although his voice was hoarse, his tone was steady, and he fixed her eyes with his own. "If you would be so good as to tell me _who _it is you are seeking, for the sake of my parents who owe you a debt, I would be more than happy to help you. As it is, however, I can do very little else that would give you satisfaction at this time."

Morrigan's eyebrow shot up as his hand enfolded hers and she pursed her lips for a moment. She did not step back however. "I find that difficult to believe," she said then as her eyes flicked downwards. He found himself blushing furiously, but moved her hand away from him firmly. She stepped back then - gently freeing her hand. Was she angry? Pleased? Her expression was unreadable but she did nothing but look at him.

"It took me a long time to find you in this corner of the fade," she said eventually. "It seems a waste not to take advantage of our time here."

Duncan laughed then, a quick, harsh sound. Morrigan's lips twitched and she began to smile. With her scent removed from him his faculties began to return in full. He was dreaming, he knew that now, although he had never had a dream so real.

"Can we be sensible?" he said then. "You want something from me. I will help if I can, as I said. There's no need for... anything else."

She cocked her head and considered him for a long moment. "You are far more like your mother than your father," she said then. "You have her look, you know."

There was a pause as they considered each other. Duncan was still standing at the edge of the cliff, and although he knew it was a dream now it was no less terrifying a drop.

"I'm sure to wake up soon," Duncan said then. He was anxious for this discussion to end - he knew he was at a disadvantage and was certain he could have handled himself better. This woman was dangerous, no matter how much of a friend she had been to his mother.

"My son," she said then. "He's gone and I need to find him. I _must _find him. I know he's communicated with you before. I know you have a connection to him. Please," her face lost its guarded expression and she simply looked lost, "please tell me where he is."

She was beautiful, and perilous, and he knew somehow that this request was not one he could agree to without condtions. _Her son, _he thought. _My friend. _That final contact they had had - he had been trying to evade Morrigan, going against her wishes. And he had seemed so genuine in his desire to help.

And yet - this was his mother. There was no mistaking the genuine concern in Morrigan's eyes - the sense of yearning. He sketched a bow to her. "My lady," he said. "If it's within my power to help you, I will try."

She smiled then, and it was a smile of genuine relief. "Thank you," she said simply. Green flames surrounded her and she faded from view.

He awoke in a pool of sweat with his sheets tangled around him to such an extent that it took him five minutes to free himself.


	8. Chapter 8

EIGHT

It was difficult, entering the deep roads. Of all their adventures during the blight, this had been the place where they had faced the worst – where the true horror of the taint and the archdemon had revealed itself. The machinations of dwarven politics, the madness of Branka – all of these things had felt so wrong to Leliana, even at home with intrigue as she was. Being so close to something so terrible had warped these people.

Oghren, too, was uncharacteristically silent. His wife and child were near, in Orzammar, although he made no move to suggest they visit.

Once they were in the deep roads Rowan and Yuri conferred again, calling Oghren to them after a while. "This will take some time," Yuri said to her afterwards. "The roads are difficult to navigate at the best of times, and although we can tell you how far away they are, there isn't always a direct route to that place – or so Oghren tells me."

"Does he have any idea of where we need to go?" Leliana said.

"Past the Anvil of the Void," Rowan said.

There were suspiciously few darkspawn – some stragglers here and there, never in groups of more than three or four. They were easily dealt with and easily sensed by the two wardens. Leliana asked Anders about the numbers.

"The legion has grown again," he explained to her. "And the wardens who are called here have more of a purpose these days."

Leliana cocked an eyebrow. "I thought their purpose was to die in battle." 

Anders was uncharacteristically grim. "Well, there's that," he said. "But the warden commander – I'm sorry, the Queen, charged all wardens who were called to seek out and destroy broodmothers."

Leliana was not shocked. It made sense – to destroy the darkspawn's methods of reproduction, keep their numbers as low as possible.

"Also, the.. women wardens... they are given a magic token," he said. "We worked on it for many years. It's a way out if they happen to be... taken. It's not foolproof, but from the little we've heard it means the 'spawn aren't getting what they need from us any more. They've taken to.. raiding the dwarven settlements instead. Not often, and not usually successfully – but they are obviously still managing to take some."

She grimaced, an image of the darkspawn broodmother they had killed suddenly clear in her mind.

They walked through the oppressive heat and humidity of the roads for five days before they found the signs they were looking for. Darkspawn numbers were increasing the further they travelled – past the Anvil they had to be on constant guard against ever increasing groups of genlocks and hurlocks.

 It was on the sixth day that they heard the sounds of battle.

It was a crossroads – like Caridin's cross. The centre of the crossroads had been fortified with scrap wood, old, twisted weapons and the bodies of dead darkspawn. The ground was raised in the middle – a defensive hill. There were at least fifteen darkspawn massing on the centre of the hill.

Leliana could hear their voices – and she knew immediately that the king and queen were both in the midst of those darkspawn. She drew her bow as her companions drew their own weapons and charged.

The battle was fierce and fast. Yuri waded through the darkspawn like an Ogre – almost as large and just as effective against the short genlocks. Leliana's arrows flew as fast and true as they ever had, and Zevran, quick and agile, danced amongst his enemies, felling them with deadly accuracy. Rowan and Anders bolstered their skills and blasted their enemies with well timed and aimed counterpoints to the other's physical attacks.

Five minutes later it was all over and Leliana found herself with her heart in her mouth. It had been nearly four months since the King and Queen had left. She remembered poor Hespith – her babbling – the dark sores on her face – the empty, filmed over eyes. Somehow to see the Alistair and Miranda like that would be worse than not seeing them at all.

But Hespith had been in the deep roads for two years. _Dear Maker, let them not be too far gone._

They had their backs to her, the three of them. Miranda was easy to distinguish – the shortest of the three, lithe and dark haired. The other two were so alike in build that Leliana wasn't sure who was who until Alistair turned to them, sheathing his sword behind him in a gesture so familiar that Leliana found it difficult to breathe. His eyes were still the clear hazel she remembered, although his face was grey and haggard. His hair was longer, caught back in a knot at the base of his neck. But his smile was the same – open and honest and infectious. He held out his arms as he surveyed the group before him "By Andraste's holy knickers!" he cried, and his voice was the same as well. "What are you doing here?"


	9. Chapter 9

NINE

Duncan fidgeted with his shirt as he heard the supplicants. More money for trade. More land. More soldiers to protect from bandits. Just for once he'd like to have a Bann or an Arl come to a session and say "Actually, your majesty, I don't need anything this month. Keep up the good work!"

Teagan, as one of his closest advisors, was invaluable in these sessions, having stepped effortlessly into Eammon's role as chancellor in the same way he had taken over the administration of Redcliffe. His son, Daveth, ruled there now, and Teagan had a grandchild on the way, Duncan remembered - too easily distracted from the endless stream of requests. He must remember to send the Arl home for a break soon.

A motion at the doors made him look up past Bann Lockey who was petitioning for bridge repairs in his demesne and he saw Princess Amelie's lady in waiting enter. What was her name again? Duncan had been told it several times.. Rosa? Rillan? He could never remember, but that was possibly because whenever he was in her presence he was distracted completely by her lady.

She moved swiftly and silently to Duncan's side and pressed a folded note into his hands. Duncan took it and barely had time to thank her before she turned and glided out again, without a word.

He didn't think he'd ever heard her say anything, actually. The note felt hot in his hand and he felt his heart speed up as he surruptitiously unfolded it and cast his eyes over the contents. _Yes, _he thought to himself. _Oh, my lady, most definitely yes._

Lockey's voice was beginning to grate on his nerves. He had heard the petition before and it was reasonable, but Lockey had the resources and the men to make the repairs himself. That he wanted the king to deal with it was a measure of the man's tight fistedness and Duncan was sick of it.

"Lockey," he said finally, interrupting the man. "We've discussed this matter several times and my answer is still the same. Your resources are plentiful, your manpower is adequate. If you wish the bridge repaired, you must do it yourself. I know that the merchants who are so willing to trade with you are finding different routes past this obstruction, and quite frankly it is a waste of your time and mine to keep asking."

Lockey's big, flabby jowls dropped in shock. The king was usually much more diplomatic in his refusals, and Duncan wondered if that was the reason the rather thick-headed Lockey had never taken them seriously before.

"Y..your majesty," the Bann said then.. bowed and sat at the table with an audible thud. The king swept his eyes over the remainder of the arls and banns seated around him. "If there is nothing else?" he asked them.

The remaining petitioners, seeing his current mood, wisely decided their requests could wait, or be delivered in writing, and the assembly stood. Duncan stood also and bowed before swiftly exiting the chamber with Teagan close on his heels.

"Your majesty," Teagan said as they walked. "I must confess to being a little surprised at your... dismissal of Bann Lockey."

Duncan snorted. "He's had it coming for months," Duncan said. "I should have told him that earlier."

Teagan was having to trot to keep up with Duncan's long strides. "I suppose so," he said then, "but..."

"Teagan, you know I value your advice and opinions," Duncan interrupted, stopping abruptly and facing the older man. "But do you think you might leave me alone for a little while? I have... something to attend to."

Teagan bowed, but not before Duncan caught the hint of a smirk on his face. _Curse the man, _he thought to himself. _He's too observant for his own good. _"Your majesty," Teagan said, and turned on his heel to leave.

Duncan sighed, then remembered where he was headed and renewed his journey with more vigour.

The kitchen gardens were easily accessed from the main area of the palace - if one knew the routes - and Duncan had been careful to teach them to Amelie. He found her there, waiting with her back to him. He used all his not inconsiderable skill in stealth to approach her unawares and yet, as he was almost close enough to feel the heat from her skin, she turned and caught his eyes with her own, halting his advance far more skillfully than any opponent had managed on the practice field.

"Dear Duncan," she said. "Haven't you learned yet that you cannot surprise me?"

He laughed out loud. "Your highness," he said. "You never cease to delightfully amaze me." She held out her hand for him to kiss, which he did formally, catching it in his own with a flourish and giving her a full courtly bow. But he did not release her hand at the end, and she used her other to cup his cheek and bring his face closer to her own.

"I'm so glad you could make it," she said then, her breath hot on his lips. It was all she had time for before he claimed those lips with his own.

It was some time later and the lady was somewhat more dishevelled when they paused for breath.

"As pleasant as this is," Amelie said, gasping a little, "it's not the only reason I called for you."

Duncan had his arms around her slim waist and his face buried in her neck as she spoke. "Not the only reason?" he murmured. "I'm hurt."

She laughed. "No indeed," she said, and firmly moved his arms away from her waist, edging along the bench they both occupied until there was a measure of space between them. "I have some information for you."

Suddenly intrigued, Duncan sat upright. "Information?"

"Cecile has been - mingling with your people," she continued. Cecile was the bard Amelie had brought with her as part of her retinue. Naturally she had immediately been tagged by Nathaniel as someone to watch, but the watch had been somewhat relaxed after she had worked her way through most of the visiting nobility. The woman was beautiful, talented, and very willing to share.

"I'll say," Duncan muttered. Amelie laughed.

"The girl knows what she likes," she said. "And she's uncovered a lot of resentment towards you among the nobility."

Duncan smiled. "Oh she has has she?"

Amelie nodded and bit her lip. Suddenly Duncan realised she was telling him this because she was worried - worried for his safety. He had to fight an urge to embrace her again. This woman was a treasure indeed, and he had no right to be so lucky.

"My dearest," he said. "I doubt very much that it's anything to worry about."

"But Duncan..."

He stood up and paced the small walled garden. "Let me guess who she's discovered to be... less than loyal," he said then, and he started to tick it off on his fingertips "The Arl of Bannorn. Bann Wolver. Bann Hurick. And the indomitable Lady Neira."

Amelie's mouth dropped open - adorably he was pleased to note. "Indeed," she said then. "Although I wasn't aware of Bann Wolver."

"No, I suppose you weren't," he continued. "Cecile isn't his type I'm afraid."

"How did you...?"

Duncan sat next to her and enfolded her in his arms again. "My closest advisor - and my father's before me - was a lady named Leliana. Also from Orlais. She taught us everything she knew, and I'm pleased to note that we learned it well."

Amelie laughed. "Well, well," she said. "Ferelden is not so backward as we thought!"

"No indeed," Duncan replied. "We like to take the best from the cultures we encounter..." he leaned forward and his mouth found her neck again... and matters of court and state were once again forgotten.


	10. Chapter 10

TEN

Leliana found herself grinning all over her face. It was so good to see him, despite the changes, despite their surroundings. She had been certain they would never meet again and for the first time in many years she felt the hand of the Maker gently guiding them. She wondered at herself - the days when she had let her faith guide her completely and utterly were gone - with age and experience she had felt the Maker's presence less and less, and she found she had missed that rock hard certainty.

Miranda turned next, still holding her sword and dagger at the ready, and Leliana's grin faded a little. The queen had not fared as well as the king. Her once clear grey eyes were filmed as though she was blind and her cheeks were hollow. She had a scar that started on her jaw and ran down one side of her neck and under her armour – a wound that had not entirely healed.

But she smiled as well when she saw them and snapped her weapons back into their sheaths with the same precise movements Leliana remembered so well. "Alistair, you never used to swear so much," she said sternly.

Her husband laughed. "I always wanted to," he said. "But they used to make you eat soap if you swore in the chantry. Old habits, you know. No one cares who's nether regions you take in vain down here, though. Thought I'd get it in while I had the chance."

Miranda moved closer to her husband and put her arm around his waist. He pulled her in tightly and kissed the top of her head.

The third figure had knelt by the corpse of a darkspawn as they talked.

The king looked behind Leliana to where Yuri was standing and his eyes widened. He stepped forward quickly and embraced the bigger man in a fierce hug. "I hoped it would be you," he said. "It's good to see you again."

"Your majesties," Leliana said, bowing her head slightly. "We actually didn't come looking for you. Although the Maker knows I am glad we found you."

Miranda smiled at her. "Lelli, you of all people don't have to call us that," she said softly.

"Didn't come to find me?" Alistair said. "I'm hurt. Here I was thinking Ferelden was falling apart without me and you'd travelled all this way to drag me back..." he stopped for a minute. "Mmm. Must be a measure of how long I've been down here that makes that actually sound appealing."

Leliana laughed. She hadn't seen Alistair this light hearted for years.

"No, father," said the third figure, getting to his feet and facing them. "I rather think they came looking for me."

It was Alistair – but – Alistair if he hadn't been sent to the chantry, Alistair if he hadn't learned to protect himself with humour, Alistair if he had never met Miranda, or had the cares of leadership on his shoulders. The face was the same, but the eyes were Morrigan's – and something else as well. There was age there – as though the young man had seen more than Leliana could ever imagine.

"Ah, yes," Alistair continued. "I must introduce my... son. Fion."

The young man bowed. "You must be Leliana," he said softly. The voice as well had something of Morrigan about it – the same inflections and accent, although she was relieved to find there was none of the woman's scorn. She nodded. He turned to her other companions and named them in turn. She wasn't surprised that he knew all of them. Something in his eyes made her think he knew everything there was to know. He was dressed in a simple tunic and breeches, and unlike his father and the Queen, there were no blood splatters on it. He was also unarmed – no staff for magic focus, no blades. She somehow doubted that the king and queen were responsible for all of the darkspawn bodies that surrounded them though.

Leliana nodded. "Your brother sends his greetings," she said.

"'Twould have been better if he had come himself," the young man replied, and Morrigan's scorn shone through for a second before he continued, and this time she was sure he was a young Alistair "still, being king and all, couldn't really expect that I suppose."

Miranda opened her arms and smiled ruefully. "It's not much," she said, "but it's where we usually call home these days. If you follow me I'll take you somewhere that doesn't have quite so much..."

"Blood?" Zevran said. Miranda laughed.

Down one of the branches of the crossroads there was a lava hole in the wall that was quite deep - it twisted for a hundred metres or so before ending in a flat floored cave that had obviously been set up as a camp for the three of them. They negotiated a series of traps and lures that Miranda had set up to get there. "There's magical protection as well," Alistair told Leliana as they walked, "but Fion can deal with that. You won't be sucked into the fade or anything."

_So he does have magic, _Leliana said, eyeing the younger man. _I wonder if it's anything like his mother's? _She had an image, then, of Morrigan transformed into an enormous spider, leaping on her enemies, and shuddered.

The small cave felt crowded, especially with the presence of Yuri crouched like a bear next to the firepit. Supplies were stacked in the corners - there were two bedrolls on one side of the fire, close to each other _only two? _Leliana thought. _So Fion doesn't sleep here as well? _There was even a stack of books against one wall and a storage chest for herbs.

It wasn't exactly cosy, but it was better than some of the camps they'd been forced into during the blight. And looking at Miranda and Alistair, still alive, still together, she thought they wouldn't care about their surroundings. They were doing what they'd always done best - fighting darkspawn.

"It's straightforward down here," Miranda said, watching her. "No politics, no intrigue. The darkspawn come and we kill them. Period."

"How long have you been here?" Anders asked. He looked at the Queen with some of his old longing and Leliana threw a quick glance at the King, who grinned a little and cocked an eyebrow at her.

"About a month," Miranda replied. "We hunted for a while, before Fion found us and before I got this," she motioned to the wound on the side of her neck. "Found three broodmothers and killed them - it was a lot harder without you there, Lelli - then Fion came."

Alistair nodded. "He told us people would come looking for us and we should probably stay put to make it easier for them. Wouldn't tell us who though." The king snorted. "I wouldn't have believed him, any way."

"How is it that you're still..." Leliana began, and stopped.

"How is it that we're not ghouls?" Miranda said. "Well. I think you should ask Fion that."

"I've halted the corruption," he said. "The taint will not progress - as long as I'm here."

"So you can reverse it?"

"No," Fion said. "Nothing can reverse the taint."

"There is no taint in you," Anders said then. "We'd be able to sense it if there was. And your father..."

The boy turned his disturbing gaze on the mage. "I said it couldn't be reversed," he said slowly. "Once the damage has been done, there is no way to bring the subject back to normal. But the king.. Duncan... will not be so far gone that he cannot be brought to the level I am at."

"But you have no taint," Oghren said. "By Andraste's charred smallclothes, we're wardens and we'd be able to sense it. There's none in you."

"That's not strictly true," Fion continued. "I have mastered my taint. It is contained. You can't sense it because of that."

"So you can teach the king to master his taint?" Leliana said. "So it doesn't pass on to his heirs?"

"I can teach him to master it, yes," Fion said. "And although his children will also carry the remnants of the taint, he will be able to teach them in turn, and in a few generations it will be gone. But I doubt it's going to be that easy to get to him. If I leave the protection of the dark roads she'll be able to find me. It's one of the reasons I needed you to come and get me."

Leliana's heart skipped a beat. "She?"

Fion fixed his eyes on hers. "My mother."

Fion slipped away not long after their conversation. Anders and Oghren and Zevran busied themselves with some of Oghren's stash - Miranda had guaranteed they would be safe in the cave for some time "The spawn tend to come in waves," she said. "I don't expect another attack for a few days at least. And Fion is resetting our wards at the crossroads - even if they do come we will have ample warning."

Leliana sat on the floor near her two friends, basking in their company for the first time in months. It felt so familiar, suddenly, to be camped in a place surrounded by danger with these two - and oddly safe.

"Tell me about Fion," she said. "He does not seem like the incarnation of... what did you call it? an old god."

Miranda pursed her lips. "He tells us he doesn't remember anything of that," she said. "That part of him is still locked. Although his magic is far more powerful than anything I ever saw from Morrigan. He says that's because of what he is, although he claims it's the only thing that makes him different from your average royal bastard."

Alistair rolled his eyes. "There's a lot of his mother about him," the King said then, and he sounded sad. "But he seems genuine in his desire to help us. When he found us..." Alistair took his wife's hand in his, sudden pain in his eyes. "When he found us Miranda had just been injured. I thought... thought she wasn't going to make it. But he healed her."

Miranda chuckled. "Alistair didn't know who he was at first," she said. "Of course I knew straight away. How can you mistake him? They look so much alike."

Leliana agreed. "He said he's stopped the taint, " she said then, and she couldn't keep the hint of hope out of her voice.

Alistair seemed to know where she was going and shook his head sadly. "Delayed it," he said then. "He said he didn't know exactly how long it would last, but he needed us, at least until you got here."

"But you'll come with us," Leliana said. "When we go to Duncan? He misses you."

The Queen lowered her head, and Alistair stroked her hand. "I'm sorry, Lelli," he said. "We won't be going to the surface again."

"But Fion said..."

"He can't stop it for long," Miranda said, and her voice was hoarse. Leliana remembered how enraptured she'd been at her son's birth. It must have been terrible to leave him - to know that she wouldn't see him again. "He told us it would help for a month or two, no more. Enough time for you to get to us."

Leliana's heart sank and she was suddenly angry. "So why delay it all all?" she said bitterly. "Why give you so little time, let us see you again and..."

"I said he had a lot of his mother about him," Alistair interrupted. "He needed me to hide him from her. As a templar - I can mask his magic to a certain extent, make it difficult for her to sense him. The darkspawn around us help as well. And he knew I wouldn't help him if he didn't do the same for Miranda."

"It's not the only reason, though," Miranda said then. "He does have a lot of his mother about him, but he... he wanted to meet us. He wanted to know his father."

"Maker knows his mother wouldn't tell him anything good about me," Alistair said.

"But why is Morrigan trying to find him?" Leliana said then. "Why is he so determined not to be found?"

"Now that he won't tell us," Miranda said then. "Although we've asked him often enough."

"He's a closed book on the subject of Morrigan," Alistair said, and there was still a slight tension to his voice when he said the witch's name.

"I can guess some of it, I think," Miranda said after a pause where all three of them studied the firelight. "Morrigan was very.. purposeful when she approached me about the ritual. She wanted the child - so much so that she was willing for Alistair to be the father. She told me that Flemeth had wanted the child as well - more particularly she wanted the soul of the old God. But Fion - well, he's not an old god. He's powerful, yes, and there's something about him that isn't exactly... human. But I'm certain he's not what Flemeth had in mind when she sent Morrigan with us. And perhaps he's afraid if his mother finds him she'll force him to become whatever that was." She stopped and smiled up at her husband. "Maybe she should have found herself another grey warden to father her child," she said. "Alistair's blood might have given him a little too much independence."

"Oh, yes, and I've ended up exactly where I wanted," Alistair said. "Forced into kingship, hijacked into marriage....." Miranda grinned and tweaked his nose.

"You two seem... happy," Leliana said then. She couldn't imagine how. They faced certain death and the possibility that it would not be a clean one had haunted her from the day they had left. They were locked away underground away from the light and all that was human. But apart from their obvious grief at their separation from their son there was no shadow on them. They were the same bright pair they had been on the road and Leliana was glad suddenly that this would be the last meeting they had, and not the formal parting at the gates of Denerim.

"You'll need to leave with Fion tomorrow," Alistair said then. "I'm sorry we can't stay together longer, Lelli - but Fion says every moment counts. He needs to get to Duncan as soon as possible."

Time was difficult to track in the deep roads, but they slept for a while (as best they could with Oghren's snoring) and when they woke they prepared to depart. Fion appeared just as they were stirring. Leliana had no idea where he had been. He showed no sign of tiredness and he moved silently - like an assassin. It was unsettling.

At the crossroads they parted.

"Where will you go now?" Leliana asked them.

Miranda looked away. "Deeper," she said. "There are more broodmothers to kill. We need to find greater numbers of darkspawn. I have a few tricks up my sleeve from Amaranthine that we've been saving for the..." she stopped and looked up at Alistair who smiled ruefully at her. "Saving for the last battle."

_Last?_

"Tricks?" Leliana asked.

Alistair gave a half grin. "Exposives," he said. "Should be enough to take out a goodly number of 'spawn. If we're lucky we'll be able to block another passageway so they can't get near the dwarven settlements so easily."

They didn't say it. But Leliana felt their intention. _A clean death, _she thought.

They hugged each companion in turn, although Alistair and Anders merely shook hands. Miranda's arms were tight around Leliana and she again found herself close to tears.

Fion stood nearby, his arms folded across his chest, watching with a puzzled look on his face. When Alistair turned to face him, a series of complex emotions fought a battle across his features. Finally the younger man nodded, a quick, sharp motion of acknowledgement that had everything of his mother about him. Alistair laughed and took his older son in a hug. "If you run into your mother again," he said, "tell her she did a good job." Fion's look of surprise was comical. "Despite herself," Alistair added as he let the younger man go. Miranda came up next, and although she didn't hug him, she gave him a long look.

"Tell her I missed her," she said finally. Fion looked down for a moment before nodding again.

The former king and queen shouldered their packs and left then, without another word. Leliana was rooted to the spot, unable to move until the two figures were completely out of sight. She felt a hand on her arm, and then fingers entwining hers and looked down to see Zevran next to her, uncharacteristically solemn. He looked up, however, and there was a twinkle in his eyes that made her smile.

"Let's go," she said.

Four days later, just before they were to enter Orzammar, there was a shudder in the earth - a deep rumbling that was over as quickly as it began. Fion had been walking ahead of them - he seemed to know the tunnels better than they did and was able to lead them through more quickly - and he stopped and looked up.

Leliana caught up with him, wondering if there was some way he could tell her if that rumble had been what she feared.

The young man's eyes were distant, as though he was focused on some other world. Leliana was afraid to draw attention to herself. Eventually, however, Fion blinked and looked at her.

"They're gone," Fion told her matter-of-factly. She opened her mouth to ask but he answered her question before she could voice it. "Don't worry, " he said. "It was quick, and they went together."

She bowed her head and allowed the tears to come.


	11. Chapter 11

ELEVEN

Duncan was back on the cliff. He was pleased he hadn't had to climb it this time. Morrigan was sitting on a rock a few feet away. She was studying her fingernails with great concentration as he approached.

"Ah," she said, looking up. "I've been waiting."

He cocked an eyebrow. "For me I presume," he said.

"Of course."

"I haven't seen or heard from your son," he said then. "Not for over a year."

She dismissed his comment with a wave of her hand. "I know that," she said. "I haunt this part of the fade, I would know if he came anywhere near here. But we have a problem."

"Another one?"

"Someone else is looking for him," she said. "I wasn't entirely honest with you last time we met. Habits - you know. It's difficult to be honest when you've spent your life being circumspect."

Duncan thought it best not to make any comments to that.

"Someone else is looking for your son?"

"Yes. And he thinks it is me, which is why he is trying so hard to hide from me. I only wish... he did not think so badly of me." She looked sad suddenly.

"So who is looking for him?"

The witch's lip curled and her melancholy disappeared. "An old enemy of mine," she said. "And she is close. Closer than I would like - to you. She must have realised that you are connected to him, although Maker knows how she found you."

"She?"

The witch looked troubled. "Flemeth," she said.

Duncan's jaw dropped. "But my mother killed her," he said. "In her dragon form. In the wilds. Leliana told me the story."

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "I told your mother that death for Flemeth is not the same as death for the rest of us," she said. "I warned her that she would find a way to come back. I just didn't think it would be this soon."

"But.. how??"

Morrigan stood and began to pace. "Once a mage has learned the art of transferring souls it becomes extremely difficult to destroy her," she said. "You can destroy the shell - the body - relatively easily..."

Duncan snorted. Morrigan frowned at him. "Relatively easily," she continued, "but the soul itself has learned to be independent from the body. It can move from place to place. It can sustain itself through other living things, or exist in the fade for a time if the mind is disciplined enough. And my mother..." she spat out the word, "had a very, very disciplined mind."

"You certainly didn't tell my mother all of this," Duncan said.

Morrigan stopped and looked at him, with a somewhat surprised look on her face. "I had no idea at the time that she would end up marrying the father of my child," Morrigan said then. "I had hoped... she would have better taste to be honest."

"You didn't," he pointed out.

"Bah!" the witch exploded. "Do you think I would ever have CHOSEN that..that babbling, dim-witted, fool to... to..." she stopped and took a deep breath. Duncan was grinning at her. He could see exactly why his father had taken so much delight in baiting the woman. "I take it back," she said then. "You have a lot of your father about you."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he replied. "But this is all secondary. You said Flemeth was close to me? As in how close? In the fade, or in reality? Should I be looking over my shoulder for disembodied spirits?"

"No, and that's the worst of it," Morrigan replied. "She'll look like an ordinary human. She'll have taken the form of someone close to you - someone in the palace."

Duncan swallowed. "Someone who has only recently arrived?" he said, his heart in his throat.

"Not necessarily," Morrigan continued. Duncan relaxed a little, "although it would be logical - considering she would have to take on the persona of anyone you already knew."

He closed his eyes for a minute, then opened them and fixed them on the woman in front of him, trying with all his might to dispel the thought of Amelie's twinkling green gaze. "Is there... any way we can tell who?"

Morrigan nodded. "'Twill be difficult," she said. "But Flemeth has powerful magic. Although she prefers to take the bodies of developed mages, her innate power is tied to her soul, and so any body she takes will have traces of magic about it. You must have all of your associates tested by a mage. Any who have... unwarranted magic will be suspect."

"There are lots of people who have latent magical talent," Duncan said. "I can't imprison random people like that!"

"Are you not the king?" Morrigan said.

"Well, yes," he said. "But I'm not a tyrant. There are quite a few people who would take exception to that sort of behaviour."

"Then you'll have to test them in private," she said. "And you'll have to be prepared to deal with Flemeth if you find her."

"Well, that makes it all perfectly easy then," he muttered.

"Sarcasm was never your father's strong point," Morrigan said, as flames surrounded her and she faded from view. Her voice floated to him after her image had disappeared. "He could never get the delivery quite right....."

That morning he managed to find Nathaniel early and have his appointments cancelled for the day. "We have a problem," he said to his bodyguard, "one that needs immediate action."

Nathaniel was puzzled by Duncan's reticence on the matter, but he could not afford to let the man know what was on his mind. It was possible, however unlikely, that Flemeth had managed to take Nathaniel - and until he could be tested Duncan could not afford to trust anyone in the palace at all.

"You'll need to put everyone off for the morning," Duncan said, pacing quickly through the palace halls, making for a very particular place. "I won't be available."

"May I ask where you are going?"

Duncan shook his head. "No, you may not." Nathaniel looked about to object, but Duncan caught his arm. "You know Nate, that I am better acquainted with the palace and the city than practically anyone. My mother and my father taught me everything they knew about their respective ways of battle. I am far from helpless. And this is too important to be put off. I must do this alone."

"I'm sorry, your majesty," Nathaniel said, placing his hand on his dagger, "but you must know that I cannot allow it."

Duncan sighed, and glanced around them. They had arrived in a dead end coridoor. "Yes, Nate," he said. "I understand that you cannot allow it."

The move was swift and sure - just as his mother had always taught him. Nate was an accomplished fighter but he was not expecting the attack and folded neatly into a heap. Duncan glanced quickly around to make doubly sure there were no witnesses, then carefully arranged Nate into a more comfortable position and slipped through the secret doorway he was reasonably certain no one else was aware of.

In plain leather armour with a helm, the king was just another mercenary on the streets of Denerim. He slipped through the back streets, careful to keep to the shadows in any case, more out of concern for his safety than for fear of being recognised, as he made his way to the docks.

Her ship was in port - Duncan always made a point of checking for it in case an occasion such as this arose - and he made his way up the gangplank onto the deck, where a single, well armed guard stood.

"What's your business?" the guard said.

"I'm here to see the Captain," Duncan said.

"She's busy," the guard grunted.

"Show her this," Duncan said, and slipped a ring from his finger. It was a gift from his father, and bore a single rose inscription around the otherwise plain, flat silver band.

The guard called out and a small boy ran to him. "Run quick," the guard said. "Show this to the captain and come back. No dallying."

Duncan fidgeted while he waited, feeling extremely exposed on the open deck and sweating under his helm. Finally the boy came back and nodded at the guard who motioned Duncan to follow the boy.

He ducked down into the captain's cabin, his eyes struggling to adjust to the gloom after the brightness of the deck.

"Well, well," a smooth voice came from behind captain's table. "An unexpected pleasure."

"Isabela," Duncan said as she leaned forward into the light. "It's good to see you."


	12. Chapter 12

TWELVE

"So," Anders said as they walked through the foothills of the Frostback mountains. "Which one are you?"

Fion looked puzzled. "Which one?"

"Which god? There are only three left you know. Are you Night? Or Beauty? Or are you Mystery?"

"Anders.." Leliana said.

Fion stopped and looked at the blond mage. They were of a height, the two of them, although Fion was more slender. Anders relied on magic only during combat, but he followed a strict physical exercise regime every morning that made him bulkier. Leliana had asked Oghren if it was a grey warden thing. Oghren had snorted into his tankard.

"Nah, the skirt wearing fancy man just wants to look good for the ladies."

"I am Fion," the younger man said then, as though he didn't understand the question.

"Well, obviously you're Fion," Anders said. "But you're also the incarnation of one of the old gods. Which one is it?"

"Anders I don't think..."

"It's all right, Leliana," Fion said. "It's a valid question. One I'd be quite happy to answer, if I happened to know what the answer was."

"You don't know?" Anders said.

"I don't even know that those stories are true," Fion replied. "The only person I truly remember being is... Fion. I have extra abilities, extra senses, but as far as I know I'm just... me."

"Well, how terribly disappointing for you."

Fion laughed. It was the first time Leliana had heard him laugh and she found the sound unsettling - it was deep and throaty and almost exactly like his fathers. "Yes I suppose it is," he said after he controlled himself. "Although I don't know that remembering being a dragon would be an advantage in every day life."

"No, I suppose not," Anders said. "Why, you'd have trouble sorting out which legs to use for a start. And not being able to fly any more - that would be a bit of a killjoy."

"Indeed," Fion said.

Yuri had been walking next to Anders when they had stopped to have their conversation, and his deep voice broke in. "Do you want to know?" he asked.

Morrigan's son looked at the Templar long and hard. "At the moment? No. I have no desire to know who I was. No desire at all."

"Sometimes knowing who you were helps you discover who you are," the Templar said then, looking away from them and down towards the lowlands.

Fion shuddered. "I'm not sure that's right in my case," he said.

"Perhaps not," Yuri conceded, and he turned back to the road and continued walking ahead of the rest of them. His voice floated back towards the party. "But it's part of you, nonetheless."

They continued on.

Yuri had spent an hour or so with Alistair before they'd left the cave discussing what needed to be done to shield Fion from his mother's eye and the Templar needed to renew his wards every evening before they slept. Fion and Yuri seemed to get on well, Leliana noticed. They were both taciturn and unwilling to enter into casual conversation, and neither wasted words when they did speak. Yet they sat together in the evenings in companiable silence until it was time for the Templar to sleep.

Fion didn't sleep. He had no bedroll and would keep company with whomever was on watch the entire night - or disappear altogether until daylight. Leliana asked him about it one night when he was standing with her on watch.

"I can't do it forever," he said. "It depletes me. But if I enter the fade I am vulnerable - she can find me there. So I need to stay awake."

"Surely it cannot be healthy," Leliana said. "How do you manage it?"

"I need some periods of rest," he said, "where I clear my mind of thoughts. And eventually I will have to sleep, yes."

"When?"

"Long before we reach Denerim," Fion said. "I'm hoping that Anders and Rowan will be able to offer me some protection when I do. From the fade."

"Is it that important that she not find you?" Leliana asked then, gently.

Fion's young face clouded. "Yes," he said.


	13. Chapter 13

THIRTEEN

"A visit from the king is always a novelty," Isabela said, motioning him to sit. "And on your own? Quite difficult to arrange I would imagine."

Duncan thought of Nathaniel, crumpling under his blow, and winced. "It wasn't easy, no," he said. "But sometimes these things are necessary."

"Your father used to visit me sometimes," she continued. "He never seemed to have any difficulty slipping out unawares."

Duncan smiled. "Oh, that's what he told you," he said. "But mother always knew where he went, and sent appropriate guards at a discrete distance. Father was... less observant than she was."

Isabela smiled. "Always," she said. "So. I'm presuming this isn't a pleasure visit. What is it you need?"

He reached into his armour and brought out the sealed packet he had prepared on waking. "I need a message delivered to the mage's tower," he said. "It's urgent, and very, very private."

Isabela's delicate eyebrows rose in surprise. "Too private to trust to the palace messengers?" she said. "Yet you trust me, a onetime smuggler captain? I'm flattered, your majesty."

"My parents trusted you," he said. "Although they never told me why."

"Oh, we knew each other," she said. "Very well indeed. They were right to trust me. As I trusted them." She reached for the packet. "I can have this delivered easily enough. One of my boys is heading that way with some... supplies we picked up in Amaranthine. He can take this with him."

"Is he trustworthy?"

"All of my men are trustworthy," Isabela said. "And to be honest, your highness, it seems you don't have very much choice in this matter."

He nodded ruefully. "I don't," he said. "Captain, I'm afraid I don't have enough time to stay. They've almost certainly missed me at the palace by now and it'll be hard enough to get back in without attracting attention as it is."

She nodded. "Don't let me detain you, your majesty."

"I'll see to it that you're rewarded for this," he said as he rose to go. Isabela smiled.

"The continuation of our little arrangement is all the reward I need, your majesty," she said. "It's so nice to have friends."

She held out his ring, which he took and replaced before bowing swiftly and turning to go.

It was pandemonium in the streets as he neared the palace. The guard were out in full force, and although none of the populace knew what the problem was, he was well aware it was his absence that had caused it.

He studied the approach to the palace for over an hour before he realised there was absolutely no way he was going to be able to slip back inside unnoticed. He sighed. Time to face the execution squad. He removed his helm, shook out his hair and strode towards the palace.

"The king!" Someone shouted. "It's the king!"

Teagan and Nathaniel were waiting for him in the throne room. He'd never seen his bodyguard so angry. Duncan suddenly felt three years old again.

"Would you mind," Teagan said through clenched teeth, "explaining this little escapade, your majesty?"

"I needed to go out," Duncan replied, and cursed himself for stupidity.

"Your royal father may have thought it was funny to go out and mingle with the populace," Teagan continued. "But may I remind you that he was a grey warden - and a templar - and had a wife who was sensible enough to have him followed!"

Duncan gritted his teeth. "My royal father had his reasons," he said. "And so do I."

"And what are those reasons?" Nathaniel's quiet voice broke in. His calmness if anything made Duncan more mortified.

"Nate, I meant what I said this morning. I can't tell you." The warden nodded as though he'd been expecting that answer.

"Well, your majesty," he continued. "You'll be pleased to know that your little exit point has been discovered..."

Duncan nodded, he thought he would lose that little escape route. Having to leave Nate so close to it had been unfortunate, but he still had...

"...along with four others that I'm certain you also knew about..."

...two left.

"and I've posted guards there should you decide to take any more little excursions."

"So I'm to be a prisoner here?" he asked then - a little petty he knew but part of him felt resentful at the coddling.

"Of course not," Teagan said. "You only have to tell us where you are going so a suitable escort can be provided for you."

Duncan failed to see the distinction. "Teagan, I'm not planning on any more excursions," he said then. "I'm sorry I had to go this morning, but it was important. It's done now, and I'm still alive and Ferelden hasn't been swallowed by a blight, so can we move on?"

Teagan opened his mouth to say something else but Nate put his hand on the Arl's arm. "I think his majesty is suitably chastised, my lord," he said. Teagan glared, but nodded.

Duncan sighed. "I suppose there are things I need to be doing," he said. Teagan nodded and motioned him towards his office.

Nathaniel interrupted them. "If you don't mind," he said. "I'd like a quick word with his majesty in private."

Teagan nodded sharply and turned to leave. Duncan turned to face his friend - he'd come to think of Nate that way in the last few weeks. Although he still missed Leliana _where were they now? _he had come to rely on the rogue's calm confidence.

"Your majesty, I wanted you to know something about me," he said. "You know that my father betrayed and murdered your mother's family..."

Duncan nodded. Although his mother hadn't been the one to tell the story. She never spoke of her mother and father, although his uncle Fergus was one of his favourite relatives. "Well, when she found me in Amaranthine, I thought she was going to have me killed. The look on her face when I told her my name... it was.. truly frightening. But she didn't kill me. She made me into a grey warden. She trusted me - and I swore an oath to her that I would never do anything to fail that trust."

Duncan's cheeks flamed in embarrassment. "Nathaniel..."

The older man held up his hand. "Let me finish. You have a responsibility to your people, your majesty. And I understand that you had your reasons for what you did this morning - I even hope that soon you'll be able to tell me what those reasons are. But in the meantime.." his expression turned pained "...._please _if you're going to sneak out of the palace, do it when you're in the company of someone _other _than me?"

The laughter burst out of Duncan involuntarily and he clapped his hand on Nate's shoulder. "You have my word," he said, "my friend."

The mage's tower was a ten day journey away. Even if they received the message and acted on it immediately - which it was their obligation to do, he had reminded them in the packet, he couldn't expect a reply for twenty days. He had impressed upon them the urgency but he was frantic with worry. Twenty days was a long time. He had no idea where Leliana was, although he had thought he would have heard from her if they had needed to leave Ferelden. In the meantime he couldn't afford to trust anyone in the palace.

He was dealing with correspondence in his office - or pretending to - when Amelie's lady in waiting appeared. Duncan had to repress a groan. It was especially dangerous for him to have contact with Amelie - he knew. He needed to think of some way to put her off without offending her.

The note asked him to meet her in the usual place. He toyed with it for a few moments before coming to a decision.

He didn't bother with their usual game of stealth, he was too distracted. Amelie turned to him and stepped into his embrace and he couldn't stop himself from returning the gesture, pressing her body close to his own and inhaling her scent. It took all his willpower to break away from her.

"My lady," he began, and led her to their bench. He held her hand firmly in his, preventing her from enclosing him in her arms.

"Why so formal, Duncan?" she said then. He cursed. This wasn't going to be easy.

"I'm afraid we're going to have to stop meeting like this," he said. Her sudden hurt expression cut him to the heart and he took her other hand. "I'm so sorry," he said. "But the palace servants have begun to talk and your royal mother..."

Amelie pursed her lips "would have you assassinated if she thought you had compromised my virtue before the wedding night," she completed for him.

He allowed himself the shadow of a smile. "Well, she would _try,_" he said. She hadn't even protested. She could see his valid reasons and come to her own conclusions. _A treasure indeed, _he thought. _Or a powerful witch who has lived for centuries._ He felt suddenly cold.

"Well, then. I suppose our morning's fun is going to have to be put off," the Orlesian princess said, getting to her feet.

"Amelie.." he began, suddenly afraid that he had hurt her too much. "You know... that if it was up to me..."

She smiled down at him. "Dear Duncan," she said. "I am more fortunate than I could possibly have hoped that you are to be my husband."

He let out a breath of relief. "I.." he began, but she leant down and covered his lips with hers. He hadn't meant to, but his arms came around her almost automatically and he pulled her down onto his lap, continuing the kiss well past the point of propriety. Finally she broke contact, both of them breathing hard, and laughed. "Your majesty," she said. "I really should be leaving." He laughed with her for a moment, then released her.

"I shall see you at dinner," he said, as she turned to go.

She smiled at him and disappeared.

Duncan sat on the bench for a long time after she left. "Maker's breath," he said to himself. "What if I'm in love with Flemeth?"


	14. Chapter 14

FOURTEEN

Anders had never liked the fade. His harrowing had been longer than most - partially because he'd spent a long time trying to work out a way to avoid the confrontation with the demon altogether. Still, it was part of being a mage and he was resigned to the role Fion had given him.

It was a strange part of the fade, though. A flat plain surrounded them, stretching as far as the eye could see in all directions. There were no structures, no other people, no traces of fade spirits or demons.

"Quite boring really," he commented to Rowan. Rowan cocked an eyebrow at him and continued his watch. Anders sighed.

Fion had explained quite carefully what they were looking for. "I've cornered off an area of the fade," he'd said. "It's protected, but she'll be looking. You'll see... manifestations of her search, if it gets close."

"What will they look like?" Rowan had asked.

"There won't be anything else in the fade at all," Fion said. "If you see anything different you'll need to wake me. Anything at all."

He wished he'd thought to ask Fion how long he needed to sleep for. Would it be for eight hours? Ten? A couple of days? Rowan wasn't very good company. Anders enjoyed conversation. If only Velanna had stayed with the wardens - she was always fun to flirt with.

"So, Rowan," Anders said. "Separated from your mother at birth then reunited six months before her death?"

Rowan rolled his eyes. "Yes. Although I actually knew her before then. We were both in the tower. Should we really be discussing this? We need to keep watch."

"I'm bored man," Anders said. "Fion couldn't really have picked a less interesting corner of the fade to sleep in." They both looked at the sleeping form of Fion. It was different from most forms they saw in the fade. Fion's outline seemed more blurred - as though his humanity was uncertain. It was strange, too, that he did not seem to be dreaming at all. Most mages when they entered the fade in their sleep had their own dreamscapes, stories they acted out. Unless they were specially primed to remain conscious they didn't, but nor did they appear asleep, the way Alistair's son did.

"I think he's made it this way on purpose," Rowan said.

"Not your average mage," Anders replied. "If he is a mage at all."

"It's reasonable to assume much of his magic is normal human magic," Rowan said. "His mother is a mage after all."

"I suppose so. It does tend to run in families. Makes you wonder why we ever have them, to be honest."

"Sometimes it happens by accident."

"I've never made that sort of mistake," Anders said.

Rowan cocked an eyebrow. "Are you certain?" he asked.

The warden shifted uncomfortably. "I.. no! I mean, yes, I'm certain. We're taught how to prevent that _very young."_

"Not always young enough."

"Is that what happened with your mother? I met her a few times - can't say she's the type I would have pictured galavanting around as a teenager."

"She didn't _galavant," _Rowan said angrily.

"Sorry," Anders said. "My big mouth. Gets me into trouble a lot."

"We really should be watching."

There was a pause.

"How long have we been here?" Anders asked.

Rowan heaved a sigh. "The warden commander _conscripted _you?"

Anders grinned and opened his arms. "What can I say? I am irresistible to ladies."

*****************

Yuri sat by the fire, watching the mages and Fion, singing a song under his breath. It was unfamiliar to Leliana - exotic sounding. She was intrigued by the tune and said so. "Where is it from?" she asked him.

Yuri was silent for such a long time she began to wonder if he'd heard her question. Finally she heard him take a breath. "My mother," he said.

Leliana was puzzled. "The revered mother said you arrived at the chantry when you were five," she said.

Yuri nodded. "I did," he said. "But I didn't stay there my whole life. After Alistair left to be a grey warden I also...left for a time."

She was intrigued. "To find your family?" she asked.

He nodded. "They found me in the Kocari Wilds," he said. "I didn't remember where I came from. I have no memories at all from before the chantry. But they knew I was chasind." He gave a bitter laugh. "They didn't think to try to find my tribe. They just took me. A couple of templars searching for apostates in the wilds - took me and dumped me in the chantry. Figured I'd have a better life there than as some savage."

Leliana felt a surge of sympathy for the big man. "But you became a templar," she said. "There must have been something about the chant that attracted you."

He nodded. "It was Alistair that made me want to become a Templar," he said. "I had a.. coloured view of them, through him."

"Alistair hated the templars," Leliana said.

"Oh, I know that now," Yuri threw some sticks into the fire. "But when I was six years old I saw them as avenging spirits - I thought they were all the same as Alistair - brave, noble and just. I wanted to be like them."

"And meeting your mother and your tribe didn't change that?"

He shook his head. "No," he said. "I believed what they were doing was just. I... hated my tribe when I met them. I thought they were everything that the chantry said about Chasind - savage barbarians without morality or worth."

"Yet you don't think that now?"

He shook his head. "Part of me still does," he answered. "It's difficult to reconcile the two. I spent years trying to, after my mother was killed."

"She died?"

"She was butchered. By a mob, from Lothering," he said. "I was on my way back to the Redcliffe monastery when it happened. They thought she was an apostate mage." He hung his head, old grief weighing it down. "You see, she'd come to Lothering looking for me. I'd walked out on them - cursed them for their savagery and left, and my mother wanted me to come back or.. I don't know really. Maybe she wanted me to try to understand her people. She'd lost me for so long - we never really connected when I went back. She thought I'd been killed, and I didn't remember her. There were so many things we could have said that might have helped - but all I did was rage at her."

"You were young."

He smiled ruefully and nodded. "I've come to terms with it now," he said. "You can't let mistakes you make in the past stop you from living."

"Sometimes knowing who you were can help you discover who you are?" she said lightly.

He looked at her and his dark gaze held hers. She found herself blushing. "Exactly," he said.

They were in camp for another day before there was a commotion by the fireside. Anders and Rowan flopped to one side and Fion sat up abruptly, eyes wide open. "We have to move now," he said. Anders and Rowan were stirring, although they seemed sluggish. "There's a possibility she got a location."

Zevran, who had been sparring with Yuri, nodded and the two of them briskly started to strike camp. Anders and Rowan were slowly getting to their feet. Leliana rushed to their side. "Are you all right?" she asked.

The two mages both nodded. "What happened?"

"A dragon," Rowan said. "There was a dragon."

Anders nodded. "It was... very big."

Fion was wild eyed as he gathered his things. "That's not the worst of it," he said. "That dragon, it wasn't my mother."

"Other people are looking for you?" Leliana said.

"I should have realised," Fion cursed. "I should have known it wasn't her!" He was badly panicked, as uncertain as she'd ever seen him. For the first time since they'd met he seemed as young as Duncan, younger even.

Leliana put her hand on his arm. "Fion," she said softly. He stopped and looked at her, his eyes wide, his breath panting. "Fion!" He blinked. "Slow down. You need to tell us what happened."

"I... I'm sorry," he said, and took a deep breath. "I'm very sorry. The dragon wasn't my mother - if I'd been paying attention before I fled to the dark roads I would have realised it wasn't her from the start."

"If it's not your mother, who is it?" she asked.

"It's Flemeth," Fion said. "My grandmother."

Leliana had a vivid memory, then of Miranda on the head of an enormous dragon, plunging her sword into the back of its neck. Not the only dragon they'd killed. Not the most difficult to kill either. But still, she'd been pretty certain it was dead.

They were on the move again as Fion explained to Leliana about Flemeth's ability to change bodies and keep her soul alive.

"So it was never your mother searching for you?" Zevran said. "Such a pity. I was hoping to see her again."

Fion shook his head. "She was searching for me," he said then. "But not for the reason I thought." He looked pained then. "She was probably trying to protect me."

"So Flemeth wants you now," Yuri said. "Or more particularly, wants what you were."

Fion nodded. "She wants to wake the old god," he said. "She probably thinks she can somehow use it."

"For what?"

"I wish I knew."


	15. Chapter 15

FIFTEEN

By the time the delegation of mages was due to arrive Duncan was almost frantic. He had never had to keep something to himself for this long before - something so important any way. That's why his mother and father had surrounded him with such excellent advisors. They were firmly of the opinion that two heads were better than one - his father had often pointed out that his head on its own wasn't much use to anyone, at least when it came to leadership.

He was constantly worried that he might have given himself away - with Amelie, with Nathaniel, with Teagan. He had to watch everything he said, and although he had been trained in diplomacy and tact, many of the closest people around him had commented that his usual lightheartedness had departed him recently. There were rumours he wasn't happy with the marriage arrangements. Rumours that he was having second thoughts about the match. Rumours that he had become a grey warden without telling anyone. Rumours that he had the plague, that he was a darkspawn, that he had been possessed by a fade spirit... Maker's breath, but the number of rumours that were circulated about him in one day were enough to make his head explode.

"Have they always talked this much about me?" Duncan asked Nathaniel one evening as they sat sharing a companiable drink in his study. "Or am I just noticing it more?"

Nathaniel laughed. "They've always gossiped," he said. "You're the king. You have to expect people to talk about you."

"Not this much," he said. "Surely they have other things to talk about."

"Of course. But none of them are as interesting."

He buried his face in his hands. "Your majesty, it's harmless," Nathaniel said. "We keep track of them in case useful information comes up, but really, these are quite tame compared to some of the rumours that flew about your mother and father."

Duncan was suddenly interested. "Really? There were rumours about them too?"

"You have no idea."

He was tempted to ask Nathaniel to explain them, but his eyes were drooping and he'd already had too much ale. "I'd better go to bed," he said then. Nathaniel smiled at him and waved him away.

The next morning he awoke to Nathaniel shaking him. "Your majesty," he said. "There's a delegation of mages here. They arrived while it was still dark."

He almost whooped with joy, but remembered that Nathaniel didn't even know that he'd sent for them.

"I'll be there in moment," he said, clambering out of bed.

Connor was waiting for him in the throne room. Isolde and Eammon's son had grown into a tall man with a lot of his father about him, a fact that always wrenched at Duncan's heart. The mage broke into a smile when he saw the king and they clasped hands warmly.

"I hoped it would be you," Duncan said softly. "We'll need to retire to my chambers."

Nathaniel pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow - the only other person in earshot. "You'd better come too, Nate," Duncan said then.

An hour later the three of them sat in Duncan's chamber.

"So that's why you couldn't tell us," Nathaniel said. Connor had pronounced him free of magic almost as soon as they entered the chambers. The other mages had dispersed amongst the palace occupants. They would test as they came into contact with people and report back later in the day.

"I can't tell you how glad I am that Flemeth didn't decide to possess you, Nate," Duncan said then.

"You did a good job," Nathaniel said then. "I had no idea it was something so serious. I honestly thought you'd snuck out of the palace to visit the Pearl."

Duncan laughed. "No, not the Pearl," he said then. "You think I'd give up my escape routes for a visit there?"

"I suppose not," Nathaniel said then. "After all, most of those girls will happily travel if you're willing to pay."

Connor leaned forward and put his hands on the table. "I managed to have a long discussion with the first enchanter about this situation before we left," he said. "And she thinks it's important that you get into contact with Morrigan again. She's obviously not telling you everything."

Duncan shrugged. "I have no control over when she decides to turn up," Duncan said.

"I'm aware of that," Connor said. "But she told you she's lingering in a particular part of the fade. Probably near you. It's possible I will be able to find her there."

Duncan nodded thoughtfully. "I think I'd appreciate having someone else with me when I talk to her," he said. "She's a little formidable."

Connor grinned. "I remember," he said.

There was a knock at the door and Nathaniel got up to open it. One of the circle mages rushed inside, bowing hastily. "Your majesty," she said. "Urgent news."

"You've found her?" Duncan said, sitting forward in his chair.

"Not exactly," the young mage said, and her face was strained. "We went to the Orlesians first, as you suggested and..."

Duncan's breath caught. He wanted to shake the mage. Nathaniel stepped in. "Out with it woman!" He snapped.

"They're _all _showing signs of magical talent!"


	16. Chapter 16

SIXTEEN

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" Anders asked. Fion was sitting crosslegged on the ground near the fire. They'd forced themselves to continue traveling throughout the night before and the whole next day at a punishing pace before Fion had been satisfied that Flemeth would not be able to track them easily. They were all exhausted - all save for Fion, who's sleep seemed to have helped enormously. Anders and Rowan were especially affected - their long watch in the fade had not been restful.

"She can give us information," Fion said. "And possibly some protection. I need to contact her."

"But Flemeth is in the fade as well," Rowan pointed out. "You risk drawing her attention."

"She won't be in this part of the fade," Fion said. "My mother... gave me a ring. When I was young. She told me to use it if I ever needed to find her. If we were ever separated. I need to use it now."

"I don't like this," Rowan said to Leliana. "I think it's too big a risk."

Leliana looked at Fion's face and shook her head. "I think he knows the risks better than we do," she said. Rowan sighed.

"All right," he said. "But you didn't see that dragon..."

"Actually, I rather think I helped kill it, once," Leliana answered, grinning at Rowan, who looked suddenly sheepish.

"Do we need to come with you?" Anders asked.

"No. I won't be long."

*****

Fion had always been able to enter the fade at will - without lyrium or other mages. He'd never questioned the ability, and had rarely used it. The fade was unsettling for him - he knew that he saw it differently from his mother, who had described it to her once. For Fion, there was none of the distortion other mages experienced. His head remained clear - more clear than it was in the real world, and he felt energised, as though it was his true realm.

He hated it.

His mother's ring was still clutched in his fist and he thought of her face and called her the way she had told him.

She appeared immediately.

"Out!" she cried. "Out of the fade! I will find you in the real world. Don't come back here! She is watching!"

*********

Fion's eyes opened only moments after closing. "Well, I found her," he said. "She's going to come to us. Apparently it wasn't a good idea to enter the fade after all."

"Did you see Flemeth?" Anders asked.

Fion shook his head. "No, but she was close. We should get moving again as soon as possible."

Leliana put her hand on Fion's arm. "I'm sorry, Fion," she said. "We can't go any further tonight. Anders and Rowan must rest. So must I."

He looked about to argue with her, but he glanced in the direction of the two mages, with their haggard faces, and nodded.

"Hopefully mother will be here before long," he said. "She can travel very quickly when then need arises."

Leliana felt a shiver run through her. She'd never been able to warm to Morrigan the way Miranda had - the witch had been unimpressed by her tales and impossible to draw into conversation about normal things. But part of her wanted to see her. She wondered at that and mentioned it to Yuri the next morning.

"She was part of your life before," the templar said. "The life you led with Alistair and the Queen. You're still grieving for them - you want to share that grief with someone who understands."

"Zevran understands," she said, looking over at the elf. He had been subdued since leaving the deep roads. They had talked a few times, but he'd been unwilling to share his thoughts about Miranda and Alistair.

Yuri smiled sadly at her. "Zevran is not good at expressing emotions," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "Neither is Morrigan."

He laughed softly. "Maybe motherhood has mellowed her," he said.

She grinned at him. "Where did you learn to be so understanding?" she said then.

"The Chantry sisters are very good at looking after the boys physical wellbeing," Yuri said after a moment. "But they're not very good conversationalists. And boys have problems - especially teenage boys. I used to talk to them a lot. There are things a boy will tell a grown man that they would rather die than tell a woman."

"There are things a grown man will never tell a woman," Leliana said.

"Very true," Yuri said then. There was a pause as they walked. "Alistair used to listen to my troubles,' he said then. "He never had any advice for me. But he used to listen."

"I imagine Alistair had enough troubles of his own by that stage. I wouldn't have followed any of his advice."

"No, he was constantly in trouble. I sometimes wonder if listening to my troubles made his own seem less important."

She grinned.

That night they were eating around the fire when a large hawk landed in camp. Fion stood up immediately as Morrigan transformed - a green glow surrounding her before the form morphed and changed into the form of the witch Leliana had been imagining for the last few days.

"Well," Morrigan said, eyeing Zevran and Leliana. "You've found yourself another motley collection of companions I see."

Zevran smiled and bowed. "Morrigan, you are as lovely as ever," he said.

She cocked her eyebrow. "And you are obviously as foolish. Where is my son?"

Fion stepped forward and Leliana saw the witch's face soften. She stepped forward and traced his cheek with her hand. "I've missed you," she said then. Fion nodded. They embraced awkwardly.

"So," Morrigan said, pulling back from Fion and surveying the group. "We're two days from Denerim. Flemeth has infiltrated the castle and is waiting for us. I've warned the King but the chances are we'll have to confront her. And kill her."

"Again?" Leliana said.

Morrigan flashed a grin at her and Leliana found herself grinning in return. "Again," Morrigan said. "Although this time," she stroked her son's arm and looked at him fondly. "This time it will be for good."


	17. Chapter 17

SEVENTEEN

They managed to stop the news from escaping the palace but Duncan felt like he'd lost control over the entire situation. They'd failed to find Morrigan in the fade.

"If we don't sort this out," he said to Nathaniel in the audience chamber, "I may as well abdicate and run away to Antiva."

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. "I don't like the idea of you going in there," he said. "Even with Connor and the other mages."

"It looks like we'll need to confront her," he said. "It's the only way we're going to find out which of them she is."

"We can delay..."

"What good would that do?" Duncan almost shouted at Nathaniel in frustration.

"Leliana and the others may return. Flemeth may make a mistake. We may find Morrigan. There are many things that may happen in time."

"Flemeth might kill whomever she is inhabiting in that time. She might kill all of the Orlesians - or all of us!"

"She doesn't know we know she's here yet," Nathaniel said then. "Really, our situation isn't changed from what it was a day ago."

"Yes it has," a voice came to them from the doorway. Duncan looked up to see Leliana.

"Thank the Maker!" Duncan said and rushed to embrace her.

The Orlesian bard returned the embrace just as fiercely as the king. "My liege," she said. "It is good to see you unharmed."

"Did you find him?" he asked as he pulled back.

She nodded. "He's here. But we didn't bring him with us to the palace. Morrigan says Flemeth will be able to sense him if we bring him too close."

"Morrigan is with you as well?" Nathaniel said.

"With Fion. Flemeth will be able to sense her even more easily than he. She also said you were working on a way to find out which of your guests is Flemeth?"

Duncan looked at Nathaniel. "Yes," the warden said. "We've encountered a bit of a problem there."

Leliana cocked an eyebrow. "It seems we have a lot to catch up on."

"Perhaps we should move to my chambers," Duncan said then.

And hour later they sat around the small table in Duncan's chambers, deep in thought.

"This changes things somewhat," Leliana said. "I don't know how Flemeth has managed to disperse her magic amongst so many - maybe Morrigan can tell us how exactly - but we had planned to get her out of the city - alone - and confront her. Chances are she'll transform again and we don't want that happening in the throne room of the palace."

"We can arrange some sort of trip for the Orlesians," Duncan said, looking at Nathaniel. "They've been confined to the palace and Denerim for weeks. I wouldn't be surprised if they jumped at the idea."

Nate nodded. "Yes. A tour of the surrounding farms and a pavilion picnic, perhaps?"

Leliana's mouth twitched. "Sounds delightful," she said.

"How can we get Flemeth to expose herself?" Duncan asked. "I don't want her harming the Orlesians if I can help it."

"I'll talk to Morrigan about that, although she seems to think if Flemeth is confronted by both Fion and Morrigan she'll transform immediately."

"The body Flemeth is possessing..."

Leliana looked at Duncan sadly. "It will be destroyed," she said. "There's no way to save whoever it was."

He hung his head.

Nate was shaking his head. "This is going to be messy," he said. "I'd like to call for more wardens. We're going to have to get the Orlesians out of the way as soon as Flemeth transforms...."

Leliana and Nathaniel trailed off into strategical discussions. Duncan found his mind wandering. He twirled the ring on his finger, thinking first of his father, then his mother, and finally of Amelie. They had shared so much in their short time - he had felt closer to her than any other woman he'd ever met. And now, even if she wasn't Flemeth, he would have to put her in danger.

"The day after tomorrow, I'm afraid," Nathaniel said. "We won't be able to organise it any sooner."

"It's probably best that my return isn't advertised," Leliana said then. "Any changes will make Flemeth more suspicious. I'll head back to camp and meet you on the day."

For the next day they were busy with security arrangements for the trip. Duncan arranged for a contingent of Templars as well as his normal guards as he expected magical trouble.

When the day dawned Duncan accompanied Amelie and her lady in waiting in their carriage. He wasn't sure he was going to be able to deal with the tedium of driving through the Ferelden countryside, talking about crops and yields and economics, but Amelie's presence distracted him and her lively chatter made him realise how much he'd missed her company.

The day was cloudy and slightly muggy - they were heading into what passed for a Ferelden summer and Duncan was sweating in the closed carriage. When they reached their destination he was relieved.

They'd arranged the open pavilion on a raised hill between three farms. It was in a fallow field (Duncan had no desire to burn crops or destroy farms if there was a big battle) with forest cover not far away for the mages to wait until Flemeth revealed herself.

They alighted the carriage and made their way to the tables which were piled with food and drink. As they approached, however, Duncan felt Amelie tense on his arm. Her lady in waiting was scanning the area with her usual eagle eyes (what _was _her name?) and it was obvious to Duncan that they both thought something was amiss. His heart started to race, but they continued to walk until the three of them and the rest of the Orlesians had reached the tables.

He raised his arms in the prearranged signal.

Chaos ensued.


	18. Chapter 18

EIGHTEEN

The hill was surrounded by templars almost immediately. Morrigan and Fion stood exposed in the centre of the hill, both with outstretched arms. As he watched, the Orlesians began to collapse, one by one. As each person collapsed, a bright light burst from their chests and headed towards him - towards Amelie's lady in waiting, who was increasingly surrounded by bands of light. Amelie fell against him and he staggered and fell to the ground with her in his arms.

The figure of Amelie's lady in waiting - Rilla, Duncan suddenly remembered - became blurred and started to expand. The closest templar to Duncan pulled him to his feet and then gathered Amelie. Other guards and templars were hastily pulling the bodies of unconscious Orlesians away from the centre of the hill.

The pillar of light that had been Rilla gave a cry that became a roar.

"Wait, mother!" Morrigan's authoritative voice rang out across the hill. "You must know you are outmatched here. There are twenty mages and templars surrounding you."

"Daughter," came the reply, and the voice was unlike anything he had ever heard. "You betray me once again. After all I did for you."

The witch snarled. "Did for me?" Morrigan said, contemptuously. "I was an empty shell for you to inhabit. A tool. You did nothing for me that was not only for yourself. And I will not let you have my son!"

The figure laughed. "Your son?" it cried. "That is not your son! That is Urthemiel, God of Beauty."

Duncan could just make out the face of his brother from where was standing and he saw the frown of concentration appear. "No," his voice came, softer than his mother's. "No, I am not Urthemiel."

"You would deny your nature? Contain your power?"

"I will not have my nature dictated by you!" Fion's voice rose to a shout, that carried far further than it should have. The figure that had been Rilla threw back its head and shrieked. Duncan saw its neck lengthen as it continued its transformation. Every templar surrounding him suddenly cast cleanse and he felt the cold wash of their anti-magic field flow over him, but it made no difference. She continued to stretch and lengthen until instead of a woman, a huge, black dragon stood on the hilltop. Morrigan threw up her staff and attempted to cast a warding spell, but it was too late - the dragon's head snaked down and Fion was engulfed in flame.

He screamed and Duncan saw the same light surround him that had previously encased Rilla. His outline blurred and stretched as Fion screamed. Morrigan matched her son's cry and started to batter the dragon with offensive spells - the templars charged and Duncan could see Leliana and her companions enter the fray.

There was pandemonium for a long moment - he could see the big templar, Yuri, under the neck of the dragon, hacking with his axe - Leliana leaping to higher ground and shooting arrows with lightning speed - Zevran behind the beast, planting his daggers into the tough hide over and over. Rowan and Anders and Connor stood with Morrigan and blasted the dragon with spells.

But his eyes kept coming back to Fion. His brother continued to writhe and scream, but his outline remained steady. "Duncan!" he called, his voice distorted. "Duncan I need you!"

Without thinking, Duncan rushed to his brother's side. His outline was still discernable through the light. "What's happening?" Duncan asked.

"She's trying to release the soul of Urthemiel," Fion said, through gasps for breath. "I can hold it in - but while it is so close to the surface, I can use it as well."

"Use it?"

"The taint. I can use it to expunge the taint."

"In both of us?"

His brother smiled. "Oh, yes. In both of us."

"What about Flemeth?"

"My mother can deal with her. She won't be coming back any time soon.'

Leliana focused on the dragon in front of her. It was no different from twenty-five years ago, she thought to herself - save that then it had just been her, Wynne, Alistair and Miranda - far less magical backup, no templars save Alistair.

But she'd also been twenty-five years younger, she couldn't help thinking to herself.

When the dragon snapped downwards and came up with someone in its jaws she didn't recognise who it was at first. Only when his helm dislodged and fell to the ground did she recognise Yuri. The gigantic teeth of the beast caught in the chain of his mail as it shook it's head, flinging the big man from side to side. She could hear his deep voice cry out in pain and anger.

She was suddenly overcome with rage. She dropped her bow and drew her daggers and leapt to the back of the beast, running more nimbly than she had ever run before. The dragon was too distracted by the constant attacks below and her footing was sure.

It was as though she was possessed by the spirit of Miranda - she had done exactly the same to Flemeth in their last encounter. She flung herself at the head of the beast and plunged both her daggers into the base of its head. The dragon screamed and Yuri's body was dropped to the ground. Leliana clung to the hilts of the daggers as the beast flung its head upwards, trying to dislodge her. She pulled one dagger out and plunged it down again, this time into an eye. She was splattered with gore as she did the same with the second dagger.

The beast gave one last scream before collapsing in a heap. She leapt from its head, calling for Rowan.

Anders saw Leliana kill the dragon, but before its head even hit the ground Morrigan was urgently calling to him. "We must enter the fade!" she shouted. "Otherwise she will simply find another host."

Anders nodded and downed his lyrium, along with Connor and two others. The physical battle was over, but the magical battle had only just begun.


	19. Chapter 19

NINETEEN

It was a totally different area of the fade to where they had kept watch for Fion. It echoed the field they had been in, although, in the way of dreams it was subtly distorted, just enough for a feeling of wrongness.

The body of the dragon lay in the centre of the field and it was quiet and still. Morrigan came up beside Anders. "She will be close," she said to him. Rowan and the other mages had spread out, searching the body of the dragon and the surrounds for any sign of the witch.

"Closer than you think," came a voice from behind them. They spun round. Anders saw a slender, straight backed woman with grey hair and eyes.

Morrigan folded her hands across her chest. "Hello, Mother," she said.

"Child," Flemeth said. "Do you really wish to do this?" Morrigan didn't answer. "You have no idea of the power you are denying yourself," the old witch continued. "You never could master the dragon form, could you? Or see into the twists of the future, as I can. What if I told you all of this is possible, if you will only free his soul?"

"Free it?" Morrigan said. "I see nothing in _my son _that needs to be freed."

"Your son is a shell," Flemeth said. "A casing for a being so powerful that it can conquer a world."

"A being who was locked underground for thousands of years," Anders broke in. "Not powerful enough to break through stone then."

"Fool!" Flemeth said, snarling at Anders. "You know nothing. The old dragons choose to stay. They disdain this world."

"How do _you_ know all this?" Anders asked her.

"Four hundred years ago," Morrigan said. "This woman performed the same ritual I performed with Alistair. She gave birth to an old god - her first daughter. And she took that body for her own, after sucking the power out of its soul and destroying the person she had birthed. But she was clumsy. She didn't managed to drain the soul completely before it was destroyed. And so she waited for another blight - four hundred years she waited, hoping. But when the time came, she was already too old to perform the ritual herself - past the age when she could bear a child. Luckily, she had a daughter of her own."

"A daughter too stupid to take advantage of one of only three more opportunities to harness this power!"

"No, mother," Morrigan said. "I will not destroy my son for the sake of power. I am not your clone, or your vessel. I am Morrigan." She raised her arm and a flash of power shone there. "And I have grown past what you made me. Did it never occur to you that sometimes you do not need to _take _power? Sometimes..." Morrigan's outline began to blur and Anders stepped back hastily. "...it is polite to ask."

A golden dragon stood where the witch had once been. It's head snaked down to a suddenly terrified Flemeth, and its jaws snapped. The dragon that had been Morrigan lifted the now screaming Flemeth into the air and gulped, swallowing her whole, then shaking its magnificent head and spreading its wings. It let out a satisfied roar that shook the world, before its outline blurred again, and Morrigan stood, human again.

"Well," she said. "Another battle done, I see."

Anders laughed.

Back in reality, they gathered on the hilltop. Morrigan held her son's hand. The light that surrounded him had faded and he was normal again - still Fion. Yuri was being tended by Rowan - his injuries were severe, but not fatal. Three templars lay dead, crushed by the feet of the great beast, but there were no other casualties. The Orlesians had started to regain consciousness and Duncan happily cradled the confused Amelie in his arms, refusing all other offers of help.

"You have cured the taint in him," Leliana said to Fion. "How?"

"The soul of the dragon," Fion said. "It holds great power, and it recognises the taint, and abhors it. I could use that to seek out the taint in the blood and cleanse it rather than simply contain it."

"You speak of the soul of the dragon as though it isn't your soul," Zevran said. "Is it not one and the same?"

Fion shrugged. "I'm not sure," he said. "I suppose I'll spend the rest of my life trying to find that out."

"Could you do it again? Cure the taint?" Anders asked. Fion looked at him and shook his head.

"I'm not sure," he said. "I could try."

The warden raised his eyebrows at Nathaniel and the other warden shrugged. "It might be worth mentioning that to Oghren when we get back to the palace," Nathaniel said. "I know he wants to return to Felsi and Miranda in Orzammar, but he's afraid of the Calling."

"I will do what I can," Fion said.

"Is Flemeth truly dead?" Leliana asked Morrigan.

The witch cocked her eyebrow. "Most definitely," she said. "And most... satisfyingly. She will not bother us again."

Duncan appeared then, with Amelie next to him. They were holding hands. "I know the Templars will have a fit, and the Revered Mother will probably try to depose me, but you and your son are welcome to stay at the palace for as long as you wish, Morrigan. We owe you an enormous debt. And there is a wedding coming up." He looked down at Amelie, who smiled up at him.

Morrigan smiled. "I think not," she said. "My son and I will return to the wilds. Although I would be grateful if you did not tell the Templars that. Fion will probably visit you from time to time, however. If you do not object?"

Duncan shook his head. "The people of Denerim might think my father is back from the dead, but I have no problems with welcoming my brother to my home."

Fion smiled. "I don't have to look like this, you know," he said.

"Please," Duncan said. "I would prefer it if you did." He turned back to Morrigan. "Is there nothing else I can do for you?" he asked her. "You have saved us from a great threat."

Morrigan's face clouded. "I did it for your mother," she said. "You owe me nothing."

Duncan nodded, his own face clouding in memory. "I miss them," he said.

Morrigan smiled sadly. "As do I. Even your father, sometimes, although I'm glad he's not here to hear me say that."

"Well," Duncan said after a pause. "We should probably be getting back. I have a wedding to prepare for."


	20. Chapter 20

TWENTY

Duncan examined himself in the mirror critically. "You know," he said. "I think my father got married in armour," he said.

Nathaniel chuckled. "Anora was still alive then," he said. "He spent a _lot _of time in armour."

"As did most of the palace population, I seem to recall," Anders added.

"Somehow, this feels silly," Duncan continued.

"Take my word for it," Anders said. "You look extremely handsome. Amelie won't be able to wait to take it all off."

"You really don't check before you open your mouth, do you Anders," Nathaniel said as Duncan blushed.

"Never have, never will," the mage replied. "Are you ready? We're going to be late."

The throne room had been set up expertly, with the help of Cecile and Leliana (fast friends). It was hung with silk buntings. Bouquets of Andraste's grace stood in every niche and the scent was enough to make Duncan dizzy. Amelie had proclaimed it her favourite flower.

He made his way to the throne, greeting nobles on his left and right. Nathaniel and Anders kept close by him.

"You never married, did you Anders?" Duncan said under his breath as they walked.

Nathaniel chuckled suddenly. Anders flushed. "Not.. exactly," he said.

Duncan's eyes widened and he almost stopped and demanded an explanation. "Probably a tale you should have asked him another time," Nathaniel said. "You won't have time for the details today."

"Or ever," Anders muttered.

They reached the throne and turned. The chantry sister smiled at him. He gulped.

A few minutes later Amelie appeared. He didn't take in the details of the gown (white satin, with a train, Leliana told him later). He didn't see Leliana and Cecile on either side of her, or the Empress, or anyone else save for his bride. Her green eyes sparkled at him and she was grinning - a most unladylike expression on her wedding day, but it suited her more than any serene acceptance could have. He matched her grin as she approached and took her hand.

It was sweating.


End file.
